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I S ^^^^^^y Engraving Co., ^ -^ ^ ^ 

ETCHINGS AND HALFTONES 
FOR ALL PURPOSES. 
114=116 niCHIQAN STREET, MILWAUKEE, WIS. 

C. E. STARKEY, 

2^ SWustvaVed Tiva\X)\,w^s 



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EVENING WISCONSIN BUILDING. 



SAMPLES OF WORK IN THIS BOOK. 




DOERFLINGER 
Artificial Lin)b Co., 

452 EAST WATER ST., 
iCity Hall Square), MILWAUKEE, WIS. 

ARTIFICIAL LEGS AND ARMS. 

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Rupture Trusses and Ab- 
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fitted to all cases by 
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Twenty-Five Years 

Streets of MilwaSS 

AFTER DARK; 

TOGKTHKR 

WITH SKETCHES OF EXPERIENCES AS NEWSBOY IN 

THE ARMY, CAPTURE AND IMPRISONMENT 

IN IvIBBY PRISON, AND OTHER 

WAR-TIME NOTES AND 

^' ^ INCIDENTS. 



By C;' B. (DOC) AUBERY. 



J. H. Yewdale & Sons Co., Printers and Engravers, Milwaukee, Wis. 

1897. 

H. 



I'^H'^— \\^- 



6^ 



1206 



Copyright 1897 by C. B. Aubery. 



Illustrated Drawings by C. E. Starkey. 



Engraving, Stanley Engraving Co., i 14-116 Michigan Street. 
Press of J. H. Yewdale & Sons Co., Milwaukee, Wis, 



PREFACE. 

On the very day when I confidently expected my book 
would be ready for delivery to 5,000 cash in advance sub- 
scribers and an anxiously waiting world for its appearance, 
with a new era of rejuvinated prosperity trotting alO'Ug by 
its side, I met the printer who was charged with the great 
responsibility of producing it and he said to me: 

"Doc, you haven't written a preface." 

''By the Great Jehovah, and the Continental Con- 
gress," said I, "that's right. I'll do it." 

As I crossed the street I met an oM-time friend, who 
said he understood I was getting out a book to be filled- 
with my hitherto unpublished experiences "On the Streets 
of Milwaukee After Dark, During Twenty-five Years," 
and asked what I was doing it for. 

"Fifty cents in paper covers; $1 in cloth," said I, "with 
no discount victims." 

He looked at me through his eyes fully a minute, then 
said: "Oh, that's altogether different. Here's a dollar; 
put me down for two." 

This ought to reveal my purpose and put my friends on 
for falling in at the first roll call. Some matters of interest 
may be left untouched. Twenty-five years on the streets 
after dark have naturally revealed tO' me some things which 
even a special policeman don't care to touch too freely. 
But most of them will naturally suggest themselves to 
the skillful reader, as a wink is as good as a nod to a 
blind auctioneer. See? 

"Facts are facts — 
For he who dares think one thing and would another tell 
My heart hateth like the gates of hell." 

—"Doc." 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



OLD CHIEF'S GOOD ADVICE. 

One day a friend said to me : 

" 'Doc,' you've been out so much nights you must have 
seen a great many things of interest not reported in the 
newspapers." 

*'Yes," said I, ''I've seen a great many things, but, to 
tell you the truth, my boy, they all look pretty much alike." 

June 12, 1897, completed twenty-five years of service 
for me as special police officer, around a few blocks in the 




''Don't Tell Everybody About It." 
Wisconsin street business centre. That takes us back 
further than we can look ahead. It goes back to the days 
when there were no telephones, no police patrol wagons, 
no electric lights or electric cars, no lightning messengers 
with rusty jointed knees, no bicycles to make an excuse 
for every person on the street having a-leg-I-see most any 
hour, without even asking permission, and only a few of 
some other things which are quite numerous now. Neither 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 5 

did the newspaper reporters have a chib room then, sup- 
phed with automatic incubators for hatching news, but they 
had to get out and hustle to get in a good night's work. 

In those old days, William Beck was the -chief of 
poUce, William Kendrick was first Heutenant, and the 
venerable Thomas Shaughnessy was second lieutenant. 
Kendrick has been gathered in in the closing round-up, 
but Beck and Shaughnessy are still fairly active. There 
were no sergeants or roundsmen then and only about fifty 
men on the force, in which there are now 321, of v/hich 
275 are patrolmen, the balance officers. 

Lieut. Kendrick kept the books at the station, Shaugh- 
nessy had charge of the men and Beck did the detective 
work and directed the whole affair, with the help of his 
brother as special detective, when needed. 

I first met Mr. Beck when I went to him with a letter 
from Manager Mills, of the Chapman store, for an order 
for a star, which I still have. Mr. Mills had hired me on 
a thirty days' probationary period as special officer to keep 
an eye on the store nights. The noted Wheeler robbery 
had taken place a short time before and some of the mer- 
chants on Wisconsin street had decided to employ a man 
who would try to keep things clean and attend to business. 
A system of time clocks was put in, at my suggestion, so 
there could be no mistake as to whether the watchman did 
his duty. 

When Mr. Beck handed me the order for a star, he 
said: 

''Now, my boy, you've got quite an important job to 
keep up there, and if you should see a cat go along the 
street with a dog's head on, don't go and tell everybody 
about it." 

At the time I was not quite sure of just what he meant, 
but concluded it was a hint, to mind my own business. Tt 
was a hint worth two kicks. Push it alongf. 



IMPORTANCE OF DRUG STORES. 

I soon learned that the drug stores O'U a beat required 
special attention at the hands and feet of a night watchman, 
as, should there be a railroad accident or a big fire and 



6 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



someone hurt, a drug store was about the first place to be 
sought for remedies, and the night clerk, in his haste to 
get to bed, might have carelessly left a bottle of whisky- 
right in the way where he would be pretty sure to fall over 
it in his hurry, just getting out O'f bed from a sound sleep, 
on an emergency call, and such things had to be looked 
after. Then, again, some dufifer might«hold the clerk up, 
and if such a thing should happen, and the man on the 
beat did not know it, he'd be mighty thirsty the balance of 
the night. I believe I've never been accused of having 
failed to perform my full duty in connection with the drug 
stores on mv beat. 




-'An Evil Spirit Shut the Door." 
Fred Buckley was a clerk in Donnelly's druj^ store. 
One stinging cold night in January he got up tO' answer 
a call. When the customer had left he went out to the 
corner of the store to look up the alley at the North star. 
A draft of air or some evil spirit pushed the door shut, the 
spring lock sprung in with a snap and he was out for 
keeps, with his key in his vest pocket, inside. It was a 
still, sharp night, the mercury 22 below, and not a bird or 
a cat stirring. He had on only his shirt, trousers and slip- 
pers, and had to go twO' blocks to a hotel and wait while 
the night watchman went up to Twenty-third street and got 
the proprietor's key, so he could get in the store again. 
Of course Mike and I saw that he got 1)ack without being 
held up by footpads. 



OF AIILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 7 

One Wehmer, who kept a drug store at the corner 01 
Milwaukee and Mason streets, ii^ the years that were, was 
a character. It made no difference who came to the store 
in the night, he would never dress, but come out in Ins 
"slumberette," and wait upon them. He was often to be 
seen wandering about the store in that costume in the 
night, which gave his place the name of "the ghost 
house." He had another characteristic, that of never 
drinking out of a cup. The night men on the street usually 
kept an eye to windward, to see that he didn't get held up 
in his ghostly attire. One afternoon we got a little vial of 
stuff from a clerk in another drug store and in the evening 
managed to dump it in a bottle in his back room, the con- 
tents of which he never drank out of a cup, and there was 
more than the usual activity in the ghost house that night. 

There was another drug clerk wdiorn it would be unfair 
not to mention. He still lives, is the husband of a hand- 
some little woman and has a nice home, on the West Side. 
He had a reputation for making the best lemonade known 
to the natives or the night men either. One time a new 
man came on the beat. He had heard of the "illegant" 
lemonade my friend could make and had secreted in him 
a longing to sample it. It was a very hot night and about 
n o'clock we happened to meet at the right spot. I sig- 
nalled the drug clerk for two lemonades which were taken 
care of in due time and nobody saw^ the croton oil bottle 
touched. The last half of that night was one of the most 
active ever put in by a new man on a beat. He made 
a solemn vow not to eat any more cucumbers and green 
corn that year. 

TROUHLESOME CATS. 

Streubig, the regular man on my beat, was a jolly, 
good-natured German, and the old women living in the 
neigliborhood liked him because he would listen patiently 
to all of their complaints. One night an old lady living 
on the alley came out and asked Streubig to go in the back 
yard and chase the cats away so she could sleep. Streubig 
said he w^ould and she went back to bed. 

In about ten minutes the owner of the buildings came 



8 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

along and in a confidential way said to me: 

"See here, 'Doc.' yoj^i are around here all night. I 
have rented some rooms up in this building to young men 
for sleeping rooms. I think they need looking after, as 
one of my tenants has already told me she believed there 
was something wrong. 

I said: "Oh, that's all right; them's cats. I know all 
about it, for an old lady living on the alley came out and 




'That's All Right; Them's Cats." 



asked Struebig to go around and drive the cats away so 
she could sleep." 

He went away satisfied, and as Ed. Carey came along 
just then the conversation was turned in another direction 
and the "boys" had their time all right. You see it had 
been hinted to me that a beat kept clean, with no arrests 
upon it, and everybody satisfied was all that was required. 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 9, 

THE NEW POLICEMAN. 

Then there was the new regular poHceman. There is 
no place you can put a man where he will appear more 
awkward than during his first few nights on police duty. 

It was a bitter cold night and the new man remarked 
that "a. drop of the crathur would be a good thing, aven 
for a polaceman." 

As I have often said, a drug store cut a figure on a beat. 
If the watchman and regular beat man don't see that the 
night clerk does not get held up, they may not get filled 
up. The new-made "cop" got it, but instead of rye it 
was Jamaica ginger. He thought it was a mistake and 
he had been poisoned. 

*'0! for the love of the BHssed Mary,sind for a praist," 
he cried, in burning words. 

It was some time before we could convince him that 
it was only a part of the regular program and that he was 
merely stepping in the footprints of his illustrious prede- 
cessors. 

After the fire had died out and we were on the beat 
again, I said to my friend: 

"Mike, we'll get even with him." 

''And may all the blissed Saints do be helpin' us to do' 
thot same," said Mike. 

And I reckon they did, for we got even. 

It wasn't long until our friend, the drug clerk, had a 
night call to fill a prescription. As we merely happened 
along at the time, we obeyed the inward admonition to see 
that the clerk didn't get held up while the door was un- 
bolted. As Mike remarked, it was a "boistorious night,"' 
early in March. By some means, during the filling of the 
prescription, an icicle as big as your arm and about a foot 
long got into the clerk's bunk. You wouldn't have be- 
grudged two dollars to have heard him yell when he laid 
his spine on that icicle. 

ABSENT-MINDED BANKER. 

One of my first experiences in guarding business 
houses was an odd one. It was at the Old Insurance build- 
ing, before it became "Old" by the building of the New 



10 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



Insurance building. At that time there was a bank in the 
room on the ground floor now occupied by Des Forges' 
book store. It was a part of my duty to look after that 
bank. On my first round, one night, about 8 o'clock, 
I found the front door open. I went in and, to my utter 
astonishment, the whole thing seemed tO' be running open. 
Even the vault door was wide open. 

"Holy SmO'ke! James I)rothers, Younger Brothers, 
and all the other Sunday school combinations," said I to 
myself, "What in Hellen Blazes does all this mean?" I 




'What in Hellen Blazes Does All This Mean?' 



looked under desks, in the stove, the cuspidors and all 
other nooks and corners for burglars, but failed to find 
them. Then I went out on the sidewalk and looked 
around. The evening star, as well as my own, was in its 
place, and the gas lights along the street were engaged in 
their usual efTort to get the legal requirement of -seven 
feet of gas an hour through five-foot burners. Everything 
seemed to be all right, except that cussed bank, which had 
suddenly fallen into my sole-less possession, and T didn't 
1<:now what on earth to do with it. 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK n 

Much to my relief, my friend Streeter, then with 
Hempsted's music store, across the street, came along. I 
knew him to be fully as honest as myself, and at once de- 
cided to take him into my confidence. I offered to divide 
the spoil with him even and proceed to loot the concern 
without further discussion or the adoption of any set 
resolutions. But he proved a disappointment. Whether 
he lacked nerve or ambition I never knew, but he flatly 
refused the offer and said: 

"Tuerk lives in the next block to me and as I am just 
going home I will go over and tell him to come down and 
close the thing up for the day, ot night." 

In about three-quarters of an hour the boss of the bank 
hove in sight, coming leisurely down from the First ward. 
Coming up to me in an indifferent sort of way, he asked: 

" 'Doc,' what's matter?" 

''Matter? Matter enough," said I. "Why, this thing 
is all open; even the coal bucket and the cot are open." 

"There, by thunder," said he, feeling in his trowsers 
pocket, "I haven't got my key, now. It is lying on a shelf 
up at the hO'Use. I'll have to go back after it." 

And what do you think he did? Sneaked back home 
and went to bed. I waited an hour for him; then got the 
regular officer on the beat to watch the place while I went 
after him, making my round of the other business houses 
as I went. After pounding my knuckles sore on his front 
door without getting a response I pulled a board ofl the 
fence and actually split the siding on his house pounding 
it to awaken him. lUit at last I got him out of bed, when 
he confessed that ho liad forgotten all about the bank 
when he got home. But he brought the key along that 
time, and after I saw the bank vault closed and the street 
door locked, fearing he might have forgotten the way 
home, I told him the way and went to hunt more burglar- 
ies. I afterwards learned what I had reason to suspect, 
that he was a very absent-minded man and had cut up 
some worse capers than that before, without any malice 
in 'em. Next day he placed a V in my hand and, with 
a sort of seven-be-nign, or, maybe, ten smile, said: 

"Don't siimmewav." 



12 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



AN EARLY TIME REPORTER. 

One of the first acquaintances I made among newspa- 
per men was Henry Bleyer, then a reporter on the Sen- 
tinel, where he has passed through many departments of 
the work of making a great newspaper, never leaving any 
yawning chasms in the position he held. He was a regu- 
lar hustler in those days and used tO' hunt me up, or down, 
regularly when he learned I was a regular knight of the 




'Yes, There Were Two of 'Em.' 



beat, or beat of the night, for I thought I knew more about 
police duty than any man who had been "on the force" 
for years, as all new men do. If Henry did not print all 
the important happenings on my beat, in the early days^ 
some of the other fellows can thank his discretion or for- 
getfulness for it. There were doubtless times when he 
regarded it as imprudent to disturb existing tranquility in 
some quiet neighborhoods. 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 13 

One night, a little farther on in my experience, Henry 
thought he had sniffed a piece of sensational news. He 
came to me with his eyes on end and his hair sticking out 
and said: 

" 'Doc,' did you see anything a little suspicious along 
the street half an hour ago?" 

"Yes," said I, "tnere were two of 'em; went towards 
the Northwestern depot; guess they took the 1 o'clock 
train for Chicago." 

"I don't care to make trouble," said Henry, **but if 
I should catch him out that way, I think he'd take his meals 
down town a few days." 

Then Henry went to the office and an hour later, when 
the two re-appeared I gave him a tip and got one in re- 
turn. 



A LIVELY TIME WITH GUNS. 

One winter several young bloods occupied a suite of 
rooms in the vicinity of 404 Milwaukee street. They fre- 
quendy had the company of several others of their set 
for an evening and occasionally there would be an hour 
or so during which dullness and inertia were as much 
strangers to their rooms as dyspepsia is to a dog. It was 
my custom to visit them occasionally, until I became sat- 
isfied their amusement was of the innocent kind which 
meant no harm to any one. 

One night the gang trailed up the stairs and I knew 
by the indications that there was fun ahead. 

In about fifteen minutes the fun began, and there was 
a lively popping of revolvers for a few seconds. The 
shooting quickly attracted a crowd on the street and 
people stood in fear, expecting a horrible murder was 
being or had been committed. Seeing the crowd was 
determined an investigation should be made, I insisted that 
the shooting was up a flight of stairs in the next building. 
The firing had ceased, the boys apparently realizing the 
noise would attract attention, but none of the spectators 
seemed anxious to go up in the dark and investigate. 



14 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



Finally I went up — the wrong stairs, of course — looked 
around, came back and said: 

"O, that's another case of cats. Fellow up there in 
a room shooting out of the back window at cats in the 
yard. Told him if I heard any more of it Fd run 
'im in." 

Then the crowd left and after a little I went up to see 




'Another Case of Cats 



what the boys had been doing. They were sitting around 
a table taking care of a basket of champagne. They had 
placed a silk hat on each of the four bedstead posts and 
the one of four who got the smallest number of holes 
through a hat with six shots fired as rapidly as they could 
be fired, had to pay for the champagne. Hence the 
twenty-four revolver shots had been fired in the space of 
a very few seconds. The game had come painfully near 
being a tie, six bullets having went through each ol three of 
the hats and five through the other one. 

The silk hats were pretty badly cut up, but the Cham- 
pagne was fine. 



A FAMOUS SPRING. 

When the excavation was made for the basement of 
a large building only a block from the corner of Wiscon- 
sin and Milwaukee streets, a big spring was tapped. It 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



15 



yielded a bounteous supply of water, which seemed as 
clear as crystal. The manager of the concern had it walled 
up with choice bricks and regarded it as a highly valuable 
find. The surplus water, that no't drank by the people 
about the building, was trailed into the sewer. When the 
building came to be occupied the water from the spring 
was carried all through it in jugs and was drank in prefer- 
ence to hydrant water. 

At the time George Peck and his Sun were at the 
zenith of their glory gained, and Peck's Sun was quoted 
in a majority of the newspapers throughout the country. 




^'Big Money in It for You. 



both daily and weekly. One day the author of more 
than one "Bad Boy" at that time went into the office of 
the manager of the building and the chief business in it 
and said to the manager: 

'T've an idea which may interest you." 

"Yes, you seem to have several every week which in- 
terest a good many people," was the reply. 

"Well, that may be, but this is a new one and there may 
be big money in it for you," said the "Bad Boys' " author. 

That suggestion cut off all attempts at jesting on the 
part of the manager. He was all attention and invited 
the prospective governor to let his idea escape from its 
hiding place. 

"I have been thinking about thatspringofyours,down 
in the cellar," said Mr. Peck, "and am pretty thoroughly 



J 6 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

impressed with the behef that it is worth more than aU 
of the religious printing estabhshments in the city, with 
The Sentinel thrown in for wide margins. 1 have discov- 
ered a peculiar taste in the water, after it stands awhile, 
.and am inclined to believe it possesses rare medicinal 
qualities. If I were in your place I wouldn't let any more 
of that water go to waste. 1 would save it, bottle it, label 
it ''Ponce de Leon Spring Water," advertise it as fro'm 
the spring of eternal youth for which Old Ponce de Leon 
sought, and make a fortune out of it." 

That idea and suggestion had a decidedly active effect 
upon the dignified manager. He rushed down into the 
basement, hatless and coatless, knelt down at the spring 
.and took a long smell of it. Then he tasted it, smelled it 
again and tasted it some more. The investigation satisfied 
him that Mr. Peck was right and he decided to act at once 
to save the water, of which there was a good two inch 
stream running into the sewer, as there is yet. He sent a 
.messenger in haste to a big cooperage factory with an order 
for 100 new oak w^hisky barrels, to be delivered instantly, 
and another with a supplementary order for another 100 
,to be delivered on call. The entire force of employes was 
set to barreling water, special men were hired to continue 
the work, and the night watchman instructed to guard 
it carefully. The manager sat up nearly all night design- 
ing a bottle and label for the water and had an artist 
drawing a picture of Ponce de Leon for the label. 

Peck's Sun went to press next day and quite early in 
the morning Mr. Peck called again to see if the manager 
wouldn't like a preliminary "ad." of the spring in The 
Sun. That suggestion was as promptly accepted as the 
other had been and, together the heads of two great news- 
papers set out to write the "ad." While at work on the 
"ad," Mr. Peck suggested that they ought to have an 
analysis of the water in order to made the announcement 
a clincher. It was decided to get an analysis as quickly 
as possible, but it couldn't be had in time for that issue 
of the Sun, so Mr. Peck suggested a column of a general 
and glowing write-up of the spring, at $1 a line, with a 
•promise of an analysis the next week. As The Sun then 
liad over 1 HO, 000 circulation, coverino- the whole coun- 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



17 



try, of course $1 a line was cheap, and the cohirnn grew 
into nearly two couhims, but the article was too good to 
be cut, and it all went. If 1 remember correctly Mr. 
Peck told me his bill was a little under or a little over 
$300, and was paid the next day. 

Some of the water was taken to a chemist with orders 
to rush out an analysis of it regardless of cost, and the 
process of barreling the products of the spring went on 
while a large order w-as placed for bottles and a fine label 
engraving started. 

In a few^ days the chemist sent word that if they 
would take the trouble to trace that vein of water back 
a few hundred feet they would be dead sure to find it 
running right through the vault of some old outhouse. 
That ended the spring fortune and the next issue of 
Peck's Sun contained a humorous apology for the non- 
appearance of the analysis of the famous water, there was 
a big lot of new white oak barrels for sale at a discount, 
and a countermand of orders for bottles and labels was 
issued. 



IN A DISSECTING ROOM. 

Though the Cosmopolitan restaurant w-as a thing of 
but a brief period, it lived long enough to have at least 
one sensation developed in its immediate vicinity. The 
first intimation I had of the afTair was about two o'clock 
on the morning before it was made public. At that time 
I saw a horse and buggy with three men in it go up 
Wisconsin street at a pretty lively gait, and turn north 
on Jefferson. A sort of graveyard feeling that every- 
thing wasn't quite right crept over me and I hustled up 
to the corner and looked north, but the buggy had dis- 
appeared. Half an hour later the same rig came off 
Milwaukee street and went down Wisconsin street at 
about a 2:40 gait, wdth only two men in the buggy. 
Suspicion No. 2 got into my think tank then and I would 
have bet a drink wnth any drug clerk on the beat that 
something was o{i color somewhere. I kept a close eye 
on ground floors on my beat the balance of the night, 
but without discoverv. 



,8 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



It was two o'clock next morning when Jim Meba 
Nahn, one of the smoothest reporters of those days, said 
to me: 

" *Doc/ did you know there was a 'stifif' on your 
beat?" 

"What? Who's dead?" said I. 

"No, not that," said he, "but the doctors have got a 
subject and are hacking it up." 

"Hellendam nation! is that so? Where?" said I. 




''Alone With a Supposed Corpse." 

"You read the morning paper and you'll get on," 
said he. 

My discoveries of twenty-four hours previous were 
still in my think box and this was enough. 1 knew 
there was but one place on my beat where the thing 
would likely be, and I made a stroll. With my Vermont 
Yankee guesser at work I struck it the first time. 

I went down a back basement stairs, lit my bullseye 
lantern, turned the knob of the door, which was not even 
locked, and stepped inside. "Jimminy crack," said I to 
myself, "this is dead easy, unless Dr. Brow Han is here 
and catches me at it." I listened. All was still. Then 
I turned the cap of the bullseye, looked around and be- 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



19 



gan exploring. There wasn't a sign of life, or of death, 
either, in sight; but 1 kept up the search. Around in an 
obscure corner of the basement was an old table and 
upon it a bunch of something covered wath an old white 
cloth, it looked a little spookish, but I lifted up the 
cloth and there it was, the body of a man, the head and 
one arm cut off and missing. 

The sight reminded me of the first Johnny Reb. I 
saw hit by a shell at Bull Run. 1 looked the cadaver 
over carefully, but there were no visible marks by which 
it could be identified. Then I left, taking a precaution, 
which the owner had not, to loose the spring lock on the 
basement door. 

The morning paper had the story under a big head — 
not the missing head of the cadaver — of a medical col- 
lege dissecting room in a basement within a stone's 
throw of the postoffice. 

Next night, as I w^as going on duty, Douglass Flint, 
the proprietor of the Cosmopolitan, a good natured, fat, 
congenial chap who, later, joined an opera troupe, and 
is still with it, singing bass, was standing on his front 
step and accosted me with: 

"See here, 'Doc,' come in here and go down in my 
basement and, bygawd, sir, you'll find there is no medical 
college in there." 

"Keep still," said I; "that's all right. You keep 
quiet, put a few of your friends on and after you close 
up, I'll show you where it is." 

Then I went and tipped ofif a scheme to a drug clerk. 
After closing time he and I went in the back room, took 
a piece of board and smeared upon it a horribly distorted 
face of a man, leaving bear streaks and spots to represent 
eyes, mouth, numerous cuts and slashes, etc. We used 
phosphorus paste to paint the thing. Phosphorus, you 
know% shines in the dark, but makes no show in the 
light. Then we turned out the light. The thing was a 
corker. The drug clerk almost fainted at the sight. 
After taking an unusually large section of precaution 
against the possibility of the clerk being held up later on, 
I took the board and planted it in the right spot in a 
ghostly dingy unoccupied basement in the vicinity, that 



20 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

had enough dark alleys and passageways in it to make it 
a terror, even in the daytime, unless one had a light and a 
guide. There were two entrances to the basement and 
I fixed both just right, so the spring locks would work 
well. 

The Cosmopolitan man had a set of his friends ready 
in his back room and pretty well ''braced" for the oc- 
casion. I will not name them, as a number of them are 
still here in business and have interesting famiUes. 

About two o'clock a. m. I tickled the front door latch 
and was admitted. The proprietor provided a round of 
precautionary nerve supporter and I led the way out the 
back door, the four invited guests to the feast following 
in silence. Into the basement, as dark as darkest Egypt, 
we went and closed the door, the spring lock doing its 
duty. Then I lit a stub of a candle and led them 
through three or four crooked passageways, enough to 
aid them in losing their bearings, and back into a corner 
not far from the side entrance. Of course the body had 
been removed during the early part of the night, so there 
was no' danger ot them falling over it. I cautioned them 
to keep still, saw, by a glance, that my board was all right. 
Then my light went out and I sHpped out through the 
side door, closing it, let the spring lock un and slid up 
onto the street. The sight hunters were alone in the 
basement, with a supposed corpse and a phosphorus 
visage staring them in the face. Not until one of them 
stumbled against the phosphorescent board and found 
what it was, did they reaHze that they had been sold. 1 
proceeded to look after my beat. One of the party hap- 
pened to have matches in his pocket and in about an 
hour they found a way out. To this day they will all 
swear that the newspaper story a1)out a corpse being- 
hacked up in a basement was a base lie. 

I am quite sure, however, that the framework of the 
object of their search, properly mounted, can be seen 
in one of Mr. Nehrling's glass cases in the Public Mu- 
seum. It went there as a present from Dr. Brow Han. 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



21 



A MINE SPECULATOR'S JAMBOREE. 

Some years ago a fellow who had made quite a lot of 
money in mine speculations, and has since figured as 
chief attraction in a big failure, decided to celebrate his 
success by giving a banquet to his friends. He had 
third floor rooms on Milwaukee street in which he de- 
cided to bring out the affair. At that time the Cos- 
mopolitan restaurant was in. full blast and regarded as 




.^"^^^ 



•'Mr. 'Doc,' Dey Beats de Berry Debil." 

a first class caterer for well up affairs, and this affair was 
to be well up — two long flights. A big spread was laid. 
Champagne flowed like water in a brook or gore in a 
slaughter house. There was orchestral nnisic and the 
dulcet notes of the cats in the neighborhood were tem- 
porarily snowed under. 

The moon had retired from view, the flickering- 
flames in the gas lamps were beginning to take on a sort 
of tired, pale hue. The measured step of the regular 
man on the beat erew fainter. In the semi-silence of the 



22 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

hour when skilled housebreakers grow active, the pop- 
ping of champagne bottle corks was move distinctly 
heard. 

Suddenly, after a few minutes of comparative stillness 
in that upper region, there came a crash. It sounded 
like all of the glass roof-lights in the town were coming 
down. It was a racket to awaken the dead. Down the 
stairs came dishes, chinaware, bottles, chairs, colored 
waiters, tubs of water and chopped ice, tin buckets and 
things almost innumerable. Colored waiters, furniture 
and broken crockery came rolUng down those two flights 
of stairs in startHng confusion. 

The regular man on the beat was four blocks ofif and 
I was three. We both ran for the scene of the sounds, 
expecting to find a building collapsed. I got there first 
and just as the three colored waiters were picking them- 
selves up and sorting their individual personages out of 
the wreck. 

"What's matter?" said I. 

"Lawdy! Moses! Mr. 'Doc', Dey beats de bery 
debil!" sai'd one of them. "Dey's got done eatin' an' 
drinkin' an' is jes' cleanin' up de room. Golly! but its 
a long ways down dem sta'rs. Dis niggah's gwine 
home." 

And the waiters hurried off, rubbing their shins and 
picking pieces of broken crockery out of their wool. 

''Be jabbers, Oi was foor blocks aff, but Oi do be 
thinkin' thim laddiebucks must be about six," said Mike, 
as he looked at the wreckage. 

The fact was, the banquet was finished, part of the 
guests had departed and in order to get things out of the 
way so the balance, the host and his intimate chums 
could spread out cots and have a snooze, they had 
thrown everything not needed down stairs in a bunch. 
Mike and I awoke the proprietor of the Cosmopolitan 
and helped him clean up about seven bushel basketfuUs 
of the wreckage before daylight. Next day the host 
cashed up in full and wisely fenced all knowledge of the 
affair in from the daily papers. He wanted a time, had 
it and didn't care what it cost. 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



23 



TWO IN TROUBLE. 

An incident occurred on my beat one night. It was 
a night in January, with the thermometer registering 20 
below and about the hour when graveyards are supposed 
to yawn and ghosts stalk forth. A young man room- 
ing near the postoffice came running down the street 
with apparently only his shirt, trowsers and slippers on. 
Whatever else he may have had on earlier had been "dis- 
posed of. He made a straight rush for a drug store. 
So did I. I had seen earlier and took in the situation at 




''She's All Eight. That's Not the First Time." 

a glance. I came up as he was pushing the night clerk's 
bell and asked: "W^hat's matter?" 

Still pushing the bell he said: *' 'Doc', where can I 
get a doctor? Man has taken poison in my roorn." 

My first impression was that it was another case of 
cats. However, I said: "Go back and I'll fetch a doc- 
tor." 

I got a doctor and we started for the room in a hurry. 
The doctor took along an instrument which looked like 



24 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

a miniature pile driver and went to work, like a fire boat, 
pumping 'er out. I found on the floor a bottle labeled 
"laudanum" and, after due observation, went my way 
to look for more burglars, or cats, or other people in 
trouble, leaving the doctor working like a night scav- 
enger. 

In about an hour the doctor came down and I asked 
him: "How is he getting along?" 

"She's all right," said he. "That's not the first time. 
I've done that before. It is a case of membretious." 

The fellow at he drug store, whom I will call Goerge, 
and who sold the laudanum, was badly scared when 
shown the bottle and told that she had taken all of its 
contents. 

"If she has she is dead, sure," said he. But she 
wasn't, though she is now. 



A BATH IN PASTE. 

Did you ever fall into a paste mine? If not you don't 
know what fun is, real good, sticky fun — for everybody 
who catches you at it. At least that was my experience, 
and I had some. One evening, just at quitting-work 
time, an expressman left a barrel of flour paste at the 
top of the entrance to the basement of the Evening Wis- 
consin building. The hands all escaped without taking 
it dowai into the mailing room, where it belonged. 

Just after dark some Third ward arabs ran against 
the barrel, stopped, investigated and held a council of 
war. Then they sent out skirmish lines and soon had 
reports in to the effect that "dere was no 'cop' around." 
Then they massed their forces and dumped the 
barrel down the stairs, end over end. As the bar- 
rel ended over onto the second step down, the lower 
head succumbed to the pressure and out went the 
paste with a slush and flooded over the steps, like an 
onion poultice on a fried beefsteak. With a yell of tri- 
umph the kids vanished into the Third ward darkness, 
doubtless mentally calculating on the extent of that 
piece of deviltry and speculating on where their next 
opportunity would develop. 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



25 



With the regularity of an Elgin time-piece I went the 
rounds of my beat. The darkness around the stairway 
was about as thick as the paste on the steps, but, gazing 
intently into that fateful pit I became satisfied there was 




'^Thought I Must be a Sight." 
an object at the bottom which seemed to lie cjuiet, like a 
crockodile in a Louisiana stream. I got my war cour- 
age together and started to descend the stairs. 

As my left foot touched the second step it shot out 
from under me, like a boat going down the shoots, and 
my whole anatomy came after in a bunch. Ker thump, 
thump, thump I went down to the bottom, the swell of 
my pants dismally disfigurinp- the placid countenance of 
that paste on the steps, and I was right in it at the bot- 
tom of the pit. 

I tried to get out, but it was useless. Every time I'd 
crawl up one step I seemed to slide back two. The stair- 



26 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

way was paste everywhere and so was I. Just as 
despair, like a dismal ghost, w^as beginning to take pos- 
session of me and the pit of paste, George Hansen, then 
the regular policeman on the beat, came along and pulled 
me out. Since my escape from Libby prison, in 1862, I 
had never been so glad to get out of anywhere. 

I thought I must be a sight. George thought so 
too, and proceeded to emphasize his thoughts with com- 
ments and a degree of hilarity totally devoid of anything 
bordering on sympathy. There was paste m my shoes, 
up my trowsers legs, in my pockets and even in my 
hair. I was decorated from head to foot with the slimy 
stuff and will never forget the look John Black gave 
me as I met him a few minutes later at the Chapman 
store corner. Nor will I forget the reception a neigh- 
boring druggist gave me when I went in his back room 
to clean up. He was a cold-blooded sort of fellow, who 
couldn't appreciate fun, anyway. 

But the meanest part of the whole transaction was 
that after the many ways in which I had befriended Han- 
sen, he should go and peddle the story broadcast, and 
among people who could neither appreciate real fun nor 
sympathize with an unfortunate. Yes, sir; Hansen ped- 
dled and paraded that story during fully a w^eek, to the 
utter neglect of all other jokes and scandals, even after 
I had requested him to keep mum. 

But I resolved and affirmed, by the sacred snout of 
the holy hippopotamus, to get even with Hansen. And 
I didn't have to wait long for an opportunity. It w^asn't 
more than a week before Hansen complained to me, one 
morning that he was suffering terribly from piles. 
There was my opportunity and I inwardly chuckled with 
fiendish glee, as T looked up Wisconsin street at the 
rising sun. 

"That so, George?" I asked. "Why didn't you tell 
me before? I've suffered many a barrel full with that in- 
fernal trouble; walked my beat many a night when it 
seemed as though I couldn't crawl around. But I found 
a remedy at last that fixed it right off. I've got no fear 
of piles now. One application does the business every 
time." 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



27 



He begged to know what it was and 1 earnestly in- 
formed him that it required but one application of spirits 
of turpentine to completely cure that sort of human ail- 
ment. In proof of my sincerity I gave him a two ounce 
vial of it that I had in my pocket which I carried with me 
against a possible time of need. 

George thanked me profusely and after receiving in- 
structions as to how to use the remedy went home. An- 
other man walked his beat several nights and when 
George came back he was cured — of telling the story of 
*Doc' and the paste. I didn't expect he'd ever forgive 
me, but I guess he did, for he never after mentioned his 
application or the treatment, and a month later, when I 
was going away for a week, to attend an Iron Brigade 
reunion he came along and said: "Here, *Doc,' is a 
present for you." And he handed me a nice cane with 
a big silver head and my name engraved upon it. I 
have it yet and prize it highly, but never look at it with- 
out thinking of the time I had with that blasted paste. 

SOME WILD ANIMALS. 

In the heart of a great city isn't a natural place to 
go hunting wild game. Yet, in my time on the streets 
quite a bag of it has been taken within a block of the 
postofBce. I can count up six skunks, two coons, a por- 
cupine, a mud hen, a duck, a big mud turtle, and a mink. 

Where the Windsor hotel now stands was a vacant 
lot with some piles of stones and old boards and a barn 
upon it. A colony of skunks had possession of the 
property. Almost every night one old fellow could be 
seen going up the postofifice alley on a foraging expedi- 
tion to the garbage box back of Conroy's. As there 
was no immediate danger of him holding up a drug clerk 
I judiciously concluded that the alley belonged to that 
skunk at that particular hour of night. But one night 
I let a rock drop on him just as he was approaching the 
hole under the fence, through which he was accustomed 
to crawl back into the vacant lot. I didn't remain to ar- 
gue matters, but all next day people seemed to prefer the 
other side of the street. 

Dr. Hatchard afterwards killed one of the lot in his 



28 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



stairway and did not do any considerable office business 
for several succeeding days. It was most as bad a stink, 
in some respects, as he got into before his family moved 
north. 

When the Tabor house was in existence, on Milwau- 
kee street, one of the skunks was on the street near the 
hotel. Dan Daggett, an old time citizen who lived there, 
came home a little ofif color, as usual, saw the varmint, 
thought it was a cat and gave it a kick. Moley Hoses! 



^jrojni' 




, '^Howly Murther! The Divil Take Yez!" 
Well, he didn't sleep that night. That was a case of cat, 
for sure. 

Early one morning I discovered a porcupine under a 
cross walk opposite the postoffice. A driver of a mail 
wagon said: ''Wait till I get my dog." He had one 
of those open countenanced, undershot bull dogs, 
brought him out to the walk and said, "Sic 'im Tige." 

Mr.Tige went under that walk with an energy worthy 
a better occasion, but. Gee Whiz, you ought to have 
seen his nose when he retreated. 

We dispatched the varmint and left it lie by the gas 
post, when along came John Dolan, a Third ward con- 
tractor. I said: "John, did you ever see such a bird 
as that?" He grabbed it, ])Ut as promptly let go and 
howled : 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 29 

"Howly murther! The divil take yez!" Then he 
began picking quills out of his hands. I ventured the 
suggestion that I did not tell him to pick it up, which 
onlv had the effect of doubUng his volume of cuss words. 

^"Howly St. Patrick! I'll have to go to Dr. Wolkitt," 
said John, and he went off swearing and picking his 
hands w^hile everybody else in sight laughed till John's 
oaths were smothered, like the bleat of a stray lamb in a 
March gale. 

Tom Fiskin, the lamp lighter, and 1 caught the mud 
hen under the same crossing and I now have it mounted 
as one of the trophies of my experiences on the streets 
aftei dark. 

The duck was evidently a lost in a fog victim. One 
night, when the fog was so thick I had to work through 
it edgewise in order to get through at all, the duck fell 
at my feet in the postoffice alley after flying against a 
telegraph wire. The bird's misfortune gave me duck 
for dinner next day, and didn't enrich Charley Higgins a 
quarter or two. 

It was back during the Greely-Grant campaign that 
Mike, the regular man on the beat, and I caught two 
coons on the lot where Charley Pfister's tavern now 
stands. Whether they came in on some lumber vessel 
from up the lake, or had been brought by some Repub- 
Hcan enthusiast to use in a celebrating procession after 
election, we never knew. We ran them up a tree that 
stood on the lot, Mike borrowed a dog and a pole, down 
in the Third ward. We pushed the coons off the limb 
with the pole, the dop" did the balance, and Mike pre- 
sented them to the Irishwoman who owned the dog. 

One evening in the spring of 'To I found a big mud 
turtle in an alley 1)ack of Chapman's store. He flour- 
ished for a time in the Court house park fountain and 
was then transferred to a soup kettle in a down town res- 
taurant. 

It is only four or five years ago that I discovered a 
mink darting under a crossing opposite the postoffice. 
It wasn't five minutes before there were half a dozen men 
chasing that ]:)Oor little defenseless mink, as he darted 
from one crossing and hiding place to another. Walter 



30 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



Ellis was among the rush and he came nearest getting 
the game by trying to fall upon it just as the 
Httle brat went into a hole under a building. That 
was the last seen of the mink, but ElUs, in his fall, 
bursted the knee of a pair of $6 trousers, broke a sus- 
pend, tore out a buttonhole in his collar and got a pair 
of clean cufifs ready for the laundry. 

The last skunk killin' around the postoffice was of 
recent date. It occurred only a few months ago, at the 
south basement entrance and was made the subject of 
big headlines and long articles in the daily papers. Half 
a dozen persons and half as many revolvers figured in the 
dispatching of the ''critter," and the after effect was 
noticeable several days. Democrats around the govern- 
ment building tried to charge the odor to another Re- 
publican getting a place in the building. Republicans 
claimed another Democrat had just moved out and the 
apartments were being cleaned up. Thus the sparring 
went on while the odor lasted. The smell was certainly 
bounteous. It wouldn't have made a bad disinfectant 
for city civil service headquarters in the city hall. 

That afternoon I met Postmaster Forth on the post- 
office steps and he said: 

" 'Doc,' what the devil was you doin' 'round here this 
morning to stir up such a smell?" 

I replied: "O, that wasn't me; that was Win Nowell 
trying to drive you out." 

He took a few sniffs of the air, still fragrant with the 
smells of the morning, and replied: 

"No; this isn't so bad as that would be." 

Captain O'Connor, superintendent of letter carriers, 
insisted that the smell reminded him of a poem written 
by a St. Louis girl, many years ago, when the city was 
very dirty. He said the poem was published in the 
Globe-Democrat and created a sensation. The first 
verse ran: 

"Go see what I have sawn; 
' Go feel what I have felt; 
Go out at early dawn 
And smell what I have smelt." 

The Captain said there were 763 more verses of the 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 31 

poem and he was preparing to rehearse the whole lot 
at the house-warming in the new Federal building when 
it was ready to occupy. 

Quite likely that was the last skunk kilHng that will 
be witnessed around the old Federal building. It is 
rumored that Judge Jenkins may put up one of his fa- 
mous injunctions against their coming. If that wouldn't 
stop the skunks, it would likely outrival the after effects 
of their visit. 



A CASE OF JIMS. 

Away back in the old, old times, a year before the 
present unfinished new federal building was begun, 
after the properties it now occupies had been condemned 
by the government and most of the buildings moved 
off or torn down, there was an old barn standing near 
the centre of the block and an incident occurred in it one 
night. 

As the entire property was unoccupied, not much 
trouble was gone to in the matter of lighting it and it 
was about as dismal a locality in the middle of a night as 
one could find in the heart of the city. The regular offi- 
cer on the beat and I happened to meet about one a. m. 
on the sidewalk just east of the Milwaukee Club and 
opposite the dilapidated property. Suddenly we were 
startled by fearful screams in the old barn. They indi- 
cated that some poor fellow was being murdered. He 
was begging piteously for his life. 

We both started on a run for the old barn. There 
was but one door to the barn that was open. We reached 
it together and jumped inside, the regular officer shout- 
ing: 

"Let up, there, you villain!" 

Inside the barn was as dark as a negro dance in a 
charcoal pit and we stopped just inside the door expect- 
ing a would-be murderer to try to escape and we would 
be in position to bag him. Apparently no heed was 
taken to the officer's command, as the poor victim kept 
on screaming and begging for his life. 

"Cict outside and ligjit your bug," said the officer. 



32 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



personal safety seeming enjoin against striking a match 
inside to reveal our location to a murderer who might 
have an arsenal attached to him. 

I slipped outside and around a corner of the barn, 
scratched a match and lit my bullseye, the pleading still 
being kept up. I turned the dark slide over the bullseye 
and jumped into the barn again by the officer's side. 
Together we felt our way to within a few feet of the place 
where the tragedy seemed to be taking place, the bulls- 
eye in my left hand and each of us with a revolver in 
our right hand. 

By a touch of his left hand the officer gave me the 
signal to halt and turn on the light. I pushed back the 
slide and let light onto the scene. 

The barn floor was not flooded with human gore and 
there was no sign of a murderer there. There was just 
one poor fellow, in his shirt sleeves, bare-headed, saw- 
ing the air with his arms and defending himself against 
an imaginary murderer. 

At the sight of the light he ran into a corner, let out 
an unearthly yell and stood trembling with fear. The 
policeman merely said: 

"Jims," and our revolvers went into our pockets, and 
the officer pulled out his "bracelets." The fellow fought 
like a hyena, but we downed him by main force, without 
hurting him and tied his hands with a click. Then he 
began kicking. While the officer held him I found a 
piece of twine ofif a bale of hay and we tied his feet. 
Then we carried him out to the corner and called for the 
patrol wagon, realizing that it w^ould be useless to take 
him to his home, though it was but a couple of blocks 
away. In about six weeks he came home from a Keeley 
Cure institution and I never heard of him drinking a 
drop since. He is prosperous in business in a Northern 
Wisconsin tow^n now. 



A CAMPAIGN INCIDENT. 
It was just at the rear end of the Tilden and Hen- 
dricks campaign. The Democrats had a big organiza- 
tion called the Tilden and Hendricks o^uard. It had 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



33 



bten out for a long parade in the evening and some of 
the more conspicuous leaders had enjoyed a vigorous 
piece of the juicy aftermath, which often tags in behind 
such an occasion, for the purpose of planning the distri- 
bution of the offices which are to be their's after the 

battle is ended and won. Charley of the Seventh 

Ward was an officer in the tramping column and had 
evidently become pretty weary, as a residt of one part 
or the other of the night's program. 

The old Miner residence, which occupied the present 




"What Devil Ye Doin' Here, Charley?" 

site of the Pfister hotel and afterwards served as head- 
quarters for several political parties and organizations, 
was then standing and the alley running through the 
block at the west side of the hotel ran close to it. About 
5 o'clock in the morning I looked up the alley and saw 
a dark object handing on the fence, on the alley side. I 
walked up and there was Charley, his breast bone 
balanced on the fence, his shoulders, arms and head 
hanging over, and he was sleeping and snoring as 
soundly as a whole graveyard. 

It was apparent that some other persons had discov- 



34 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

ered him before me and perpetrated a mean joke on him. 
They had unbuttoned his suspenders, both front and 
back and let his trowsers drop down around his feet. 
There he hung and slept, his bare legs and as much more 
of him as was unprotected by his "seemore" coat, a hap- 
less victim to the frosty morning air. 

My first impulse was to get a piece of board and 
arouse him by an application of it to his back settlements, 
but a lingering spark of humanity and fellow feeling in 
me got the better of the thought and I gave him a slap 
on the shoulder and said: 

''What devil ye doin' here, Charley?" 
He partially straightened up and replied: 
"B'n out havin' lot fun 'ith Shtilden 'n' Henr'ks 
guard. 'T's helva time. Ain't I a daisy b'gosh?" 

"You may be a daisy, but you don't wear the odor 
of one," said I. ''Come on here; dress yourself and I'll 
take ye home." 

He was wonderfully and fearfully loaded. I helped 
him get fixed up and took him to his home, only a couple 
of blocks away. I never meet him now but he asks: 
" 'Doc,' how's the Tilden and Hendricks Club?" 
My answer is: "Owl right, Charley; I saw you up 
and dressed." Then he says: 

" 'O, memory, 
Thou art a volume rich in sacred love.' " 

And he moves on whistling: "How dear to my heart are 
the scenes of mv childhood." 



PAT AND THE PUSH CART. 

Pat H.owe was an old time policeman. The Third 
ward was his beat and it gave him his hands full. One 
hot sunmier morning about two o'clock, Pat came up 
Milwaukee street with a push cart and a load on it which 
made him pui¥ like a fire tug to keep the wheels roUing. 
As he came up to the Chapman store corner, he seerned 
pretty well exhausted. It was before the days of tele- 
phones or patrol wagons, and a policeman had to get 
his pickups to the station as best he could, and that night 
Pat had taken in his hands full. 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



35 



"Hello, Pat," said i, "what'smatter? Peddlin' ba- 
nanas? \\ hat ye goin' to do with it?" 

"Hey, 'Doc','' said he, "for the love of the Saints, 
come 'n' gimme a lift, plase; Oi'm toired out intoirely, so 
Oi am." 

Pat had a big Irish woman in the cart. He found her 
on the street stone drunk and it was his imperative duty 
to take her to the station. The push cart was the only 
available vehicle and he was laboring hard with the load 
and having plenty of trouble to keep the woman's legs 
from getting tangled in the wheels. 

"Well, now, Pat," said I, "Pm a little particular about 




''What Ye Goin' to do with It?" 

what sort of a job I undertake. I don't fancy that one 
very heartily." 

"Sure, Mr. Aubery," said he, "OiVe pushed this d— 
cart and carcass from beyant Detrite strate, and by me 
soulOi'm about plaved out. It 'ud be a great favor if 
ye'd guv me a Hft over til thu station wid it." 

Realizing: that I was only a sort of fifth wheel to the 
official wagon, anyway and Pat being the best kind of 
a good fellow, I fell in and helped him to the station. 

About the time we reached the station the woman be- 
gan to come to her senses, and as the man on duty there 
helped us lift her out and get her on her pins she real- 



36 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

ized where she was. Then she turned on Pat and such 
a tongue lashing as she gave him. She declared he was 
no gentleman and his mother before him was no gen- 
tleman and called him all sorts of things for taking a 
"dacint, respictable lady" to the station at that hour of 
night. 

Both she and Pat have been a long time dead. Pat 
often said that was the hardest job he ever struck while 
on the ''force." 



AN IMPORTED REPORTER. 

As a rule newspaper reporters have always stood well 
with the night watchmen. There has been a sort of 
reciprocity existing between them which has seldom 
been violated. As a rule, if we give a reporter an item 
and say, ''don'tgimme'way," the request has been relig- 
iously regarded. Few nights have passed in the last 
twenty-five years that reporters haven't come to me to 
see if I had a tip on an item of news, and there are few 
of them who will accuse me of having failed to try to 
help them out. 

One night, soon after the assassination of President 
Garfield, one came to me and said: 

" 'Doc,' I want an item mighty badly; it is a desper- 
ately dull night." 

I tapped on my think tank and remarked that we'd 
have to get an item, then. Said I : 

"There's a pair of old trousers down the alley; there's 
an old coat over yonder on a basement stairs, an old 
hat in an ash box up on Milwaukee street and a lot of 
straw in a crockerv crate a little further on. D'ye see?" 

"Owl right," said he. 

Next morning an efifigy of Guiteau was hanging to 
the limb of a tree near the Milwaukee Club, and the 
morning paper had an item of news. 

When the Repul)lican and News was in its clo'very 
days, an imported reporter was brought in from Canada 
to' show the home boys how it ought to be done. He 
was a hummer. He would hunt me up, or down, every 
hour in the niqlit to sec if I'd caught a burglar or any 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



37 



cats, or cadavers, etc. It was he who reported, in half 
a column, a man having hanged himself to a gooseberry 
bush in Wauwatosa. He took somebody's word for it. 

One night he discovered a fire and got the fire depart- 
ment out. He had met me at Milwaukee and Mason 
streets and was discussing the scarcity of news, when, 
suddenly, the light of the blast furnaces at the rolling 
mills loomed up in tine style. It was the first time he 
had seen that light and he was sure it was a big fire 
on the south side. 

With one wild whoop he flew away towards fire de- 
partment headquarters. It was worth a quarter, at least, 
just to see his coat-tails fan him along down the street. 
In less than a minute the department was on the street 
and racing down Broadway. That was the last time he 
ever went to the Boardway engine house. The boys 
swore if he ever came around there again they would tie 
loose the hose on him. He was too swift for this town 
and the paper soon exported him back to Canada. He'd 
shown the home boys how to do it. 

ONE OF HARRY SUTTER'S JOKES. 

Fritz Callis was the pioneer saloon keeper at the 
Academy of Music, and he was something of a character. 
Once he got a barrel of new cider and put it in his back 
room. In a few days it got to working. It was a barrel 
which had some experience before and the faucet hole in 
the head was plugged with a cork. When the cider got 
well to w^orking it began to sing. Fritz discovered it 
and called me in to see what was the matter of it. I 
told him I guessed it was alive. 

"Yah, I think me so couple times already once," said 
Fritz. "But vhat I petter done mit him?" 

I suggested that he take a hatchet and tap it gently 
on the head around the corked hole. Fie did it and zip 
went the cork to the ceiling and a stream of cider fol- 
lowed it. 

"Mine Gott!" said ]^>itz, "dot thing he drown me 
my house out." 

"Stick your thumb in the hole. Fritz," said I, "and 
stop it." 



38 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

Into the hole went Fritz's thumb and by pushing 
down hard he could stop the flow. I told him I would 
go to a neighboring saloon and get a wooden faucet to 
drive in, so he could draw out enough to ease the pres- 
sure on the barrel. 

A couple of blocks away I met the regular oflicer, a 
fun-loving Irishman, and told him the snap I had gotten 
Fritz into. He went down and consoled Fritz about an 




When Charley Kraus Discovered the Bomb. 

hour, when I returned, of course, unable to find a faucet. 
We kept him at the hole half an hour longer, suggesting 
various ways for his release, then I whittled a pine tap 
and plugged the barrel. Fritz always declared that hug- 
ging a cider barrel an hour and a half was no joke, yet 
he had a suspicion that I didn't make very great haste to 
release him. 

After a while Charley Kraus opened a saloon two 
doors north from Fritz's and it nearly broke Fritz's 
heart. Charley was a sound Republican, a jolly good 
fellow and his place promptly became prominent with 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



39 



the boys. He could beat the world on a clam bake and 
that won him high favor with the Whist Club members. 
There was a photographer in town by the name of Harry 
Sutter, who would rather perpetrate a joke on a fellow 
mortal than photograph a whole family oi babies at a 
dollar and a half apiece. He was a frequent caller at 
Charley's place and usually took a friend or two with 
him. 

One night business was slow and Charley had fallen 
asleep in his chair. The photographer was ready for 
business and had been watching for an opportunity sev- 
eral days. That was his time. He had a piece of gas 
pipe about nine inches long with the ends corked and 
a piece of wool twine in one end. He lighted the twine, 
sHpped in on tip toe, laid the pipe under Charley's chair 
and escaped. As he reached the sidewalk he let out a 
whoop which awoke the sleeper. Charley smelled burn- 
ing twine, looked down and saw the bomb under his 
chair. 

Wild with fright, he fairly flew from the place, ran 
to the nearest corner and told those attracted by his 
strange actions that some one had thrown a bomb in 
his place and the whole thing would be blown to smith- 
ereens in about a minute. The photographer led the 
crowd back to the saloon, picked up the gas pipe and 
threw it into the street. Quite a crowd had gathered 
and all took what they liked — on Charley. 

GARNER MURDER. 
Late in the evening of March 2d, 1876, a carriage was 
driven up Wisconsin street and turned onto Jefiferson 
street. About three minutes later I heard a report of a 
revolver and a minute later the carriage came down 
Wisconsin street, the horses on a run. Mrs. A. J. Wilner 
had called Dr. J. E. Garner to the door and shot him 
dead. She is still living and in an insane asylum. She was 
insane at the time of the tragedy. It was a case sur- 
rounded in a mystery which has not yet been satisfac- 
torily solved as having been based upon any grounds 
other than the woman's insanity, and probably never 
will be. 



40 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

CHARLEY KNOWLES' FIRE CRACKERS. 

During the Blaine and Logan campaign the Repub- 
Hcans got pretty enthusiastic, had numerous meetings 
and parades and frequently made things howl well into 
the night. One night when they were out and indications 
were fair for a time or two, George Tillema came to me 
and said: 

" 'Doc,' there is quite a lot of big fire crackers in my 
store. If any of the boys happen to want them to-night 
you sell them for twenty cents apiece." 

About one o'clock in the morning I met Charley 
Knowles and three or four other enthusiasts who asked 
if I knew where they could get some fire crackers. I 
said I did, but they were the big cannon breed and would 
cost twenty cents each. Price cut no figure with them, 
so I unlocked the store and they took three dollars' 
worth, insisting that I take a pair of the weapons for 
my trouble. They went up near the corner of Jefferson 
and Wisconsin streets, I having assured them it was the 
proper time for the policeman on the beat to be at the 
farther end of his territory. As they went up the street 
I happened to think that OiTficer Mooney lived only a 
few doors away and, as I passed his house a short time 
before he was sitting by the fire reading a paper. I had 
a suspicion that if they did any shooting in his neighbor- 
hood he might fall out of the house and look after them, 
so I stopped at Milwaukee street and waited for develop- 
ments. 

''Bung," "Bang,' "Bang," went three of the slumber 
disturbers and in about half a minute out came Mooney 
on a run. The boys walked leisurely across the street 
and met him. I touched a match to the centre of a fuse 
in a cracker, and about the time Mooney was preparing 
to run the boys in the thing went ofif. 

"There," said Charley Knowles, "there's where your 
shooting is." 

I had skipped up Milwaukee street a few doors and 
as I heard Mooney coming on the board walk, I ran 
down and met him at the corner. 

'There they went, right down into the Third Ward," 
said I, and Moonev went in the direction T indicated on 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 41 

a double quick. Then the boys hghted half a dozen 
at once, shot themselves up Jefferson street and were a 
block away before the things went off, and Mooney 
came running back. He never suspected that I had 
saved the real offenders from going to the station, but 
the boys realized it. I had good cigars during a whole 
week and George Tillema gave me fifty cents commission 
on the sale of fire crackers. 



OLD TIME POLICE. 

One winter night an incident occurred which illus- 
trated the efficiency of the old time police. The patrol- 
men went their beats by twos, same as detectives usually 
do now. At least there were two to each of the down 
town wards and there was no roundsman to keep tab on 
them. They had their own way and went together if 
they chose to. 

There was a shop in the Seventh ward just over the 
line from the Third in which a hard coal fire burned 
nights. The patrolmen knew how to open the door and 
usually those in the Third went up there in the small 
hours to warm up. Occasionally those in the Seventh 
ward also dropped in and the four would discuss topics 
of the day or night. 

One night when they were all in warming up there 
was a fire in a dwelling house in the Third ward and it 
burned to the ground without their knowledge. Later 
the absence of policemen at the fire was reported at the 
station and the Sergeant went out to hunt them. He 
hunted me up and asked if I had seen them. I knew it 
was all day with the boys if they were caught in the 
shop, so I told him I thought they had chased some sus- 
pected thieve up through the Seventh ward some time 
i^efore but had just returned to their territory. 

He went down in the Third ward to look after them 
and I soon woke the boys up and told them the situation. 
All four next morning reported an excited chase after 
a brace of thieves away out into the vicinity of the dam, 
where all traces of them were lost. There had been a 
hot fire in the shop stove and they were all in a high 



42 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

sweat. It hadn't cooled yet when they met the sergeant 
as they were trottins;- back to their beats. Whether it was 
the sweating or the lying that saved them hasn't been 
decided. 



ROMANCE OF MASK BALLS. 

In the years now behind us, mask balls were popular 
and the one of the season was always given at the Acad- 
emy of Music, then owned by the Milwaukee Musical 
Society. Frequently there would be three or four popu- 
lar ones in the city during a winter, and there were oc- 
casionally some ludicrous results. 

One winter there was a leading business man living 
in the Seventh ward who was having some trouble at 
home. He and his wife were at outs and each was threat- 
ening to begin divorce proceedings. 

The man was a fine looker, and the wife was never 
asked to play second fiddle to him in that respect. I was 
pretty familiar with the case and was thoroughly con- 
vinced it was one of unjustifiable jealousv, at least on 
the part of the husband. I often told him so but he re- 
fused to beHeve me. 

One time, a couple of days prior to a mask ball, the 
wife went to Chicago to spend a week with her parents, 
the husband having refused to go to the ball, either with 
her or alone. 

His wife, however, was little more than out of the city 
when he secured a ticket for himself and engaged an out- 
fit of flashing apparel. 

On the ni^ght of the ball, a few minutes before the 
grand march started, a carriage drove up hurriedly and 
a woman in a rich and dazzling garb of Persian royalty 
stepped out and hastened into the hall. 

My discontented friend had not yet espied a partner 
to his exact fancy and was eagerly eyeing all late comers. 
As this particular one entered he was enraptured at once, 
hastened to her side and begged her company for the 
march. She as promptly accepted. Her every move 
was one of grace, elegance and refinement. He begged 
for her name, but she declined to give it, although, as 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



43 



evidence of good faith he gave his. His only hope was 
in being able to discover her identity after masks were 
removed. But ere that hour arrived she had disap- 
peared and the carriage had rolled away as rapidly as 
it came. Who she was, whence she came or whither she 
went was a mystery which refused to be solved. 

When his wife returned from her visit, she was much 




'*The Real Object of Your Flattering Admiration." 

pleased to learn from his own lips that he had not been 
near the ball, and she seemed inclined to want to drop 
all of their diflerences and make up. 

But there was something upon the husband's mind. 
A strange spirit seemed to haunt him. 

A few days before the next mask ball Mrs. re- 
ceived a letter from her parents in Chicago urging her- 
self and husband to be with them at a family gathering 
on the evening the ball was to occur. Unfortunately he 



44 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



had some important business engagements with business 
men from New Y^ork who were to be in Milwaukee that 
identical night and could not possibly accompany her to 
Chicago, much as he would like to, but insisted that she 
should not be deprived of the pleasure, and that she 
might as well go down the day previous. 

On the night of the ball, at about the same moment 
in the hour as before, the same Persian royalty robed 
feminine form alighted from a carriage and entered the 
Academy of Music. Mr. was eyeing the door, an- 
imated by a high and throbbing hope and lost no time 
in getting to her side. Of course he was accepted. 
Again he worried his brain and her ear in a fruitless 
effort to learn who she was, but all he could get was per- 
mission to write her to a certain address, at the Milwau- 
kee postof¥ice, general delivery. 

Toward the time for unmasking he watched her 
closely, determined that she should not again escape him. 

But she did, and the same carriage wheeled her away 
as rapidly and as mysteriously as before. 

A couple of days later his wife returned and was 
again glad to learn that he had not attended the ball. 
His assurances of that fact seemed to animate her and 
she put forth special efforts to make home cheerful for 
him. 

But somehow lie wasn't happy. He appeared absent- 
minded, Hke, at times, and had to go to his office on busi- 
ness nearly every night. At the end of a month he had 
written at least a score of letters to Her Persian Royal 
Highness, and had detailed, several times over, his un- 
happy condition and the disconsolate state of his home 
and heart. He had received as many letters in return 
and they had grown full of sympathy for him in his en- 
forced misery. 

He had 'assured her that a divorce from all of his un- 
happiness was but a few months distant, at most, and 
had received permission to call upon her at a house in a 
fashionable neighborhood, on the west side at 8 o'clock 
on a certain evening. 

He was there on time to a second and was ushered 
in by apparently the same form and clad in the same out- 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



45 



fit of Persian royalty, even to the face mask. As he en- 
tered the house she said: 

"You see I am interested, else I would not have taken 
the butler's place to usher you in." 

He was delighted with that part of his welcome, but 
was grieved at not being permitted to look upon her face. 
Finally, after many entreaties and solemn promises on 
his part, she pulled ofi her face mask and he stood face 
to face with his colored housemaid. 

For a moment he was as one stricken dumb and help- 
less. He attempted to arise from the chair, but was un- 
able to do so. Before he was able to speak she said: 

''My mistress felt herself unable to carry out this 
feature of her part of this grand and interesting farce 
comedy and I consented to usher you into her presence. 
Permit me to introduce you to the real object of your 
most flattering admiration, (the wife, entering the room) 

Mrs. ." 

That was the real squelcher and crusher of his spirits, 
he sank back in the chair and seemed upon the point of 
falling from it as his wife stood before him, her face 
beaming with a triumphant yet pitying smile as she 
looked him straight in the eye and said: 

"George, from the very depths of my heart I pity 
you. I have been pitying you for a long time in our 
own home* and have been sympathizing with you as 
deeply and sincerely as I could through the postofiBce, 
and my highest hope now is that out of all of this may 
come happiness and real home life to both of us. Here 
are all of your letters, and I trust you have all of mine. 
Every one of them was written in our own home and 
to that let us return with them and let their contents re- 
main sacred between us." 

"Sarah, tell James to drive up the carriage." 
"Come George, let us go home. The comedy is 
ended. Let the curtain drop." 

Thev went home and the foolishness ceased. There- 
after there was no happier couple in Milwaukee or one 
more devoted to each other. I have suppressed the 
names l^ecause they ?re both yet living, and in Wiscon- 
sin, thoueh not in Milwaukee. 



46 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

She had been in Chicago each time exactly as ar- 
ranged, but, being advised of his movements, had come 
up to the ball on a train arriving at 8 o'clock and re- 
turned on one at 11 o'clock. The final act in the drama 
was performed in the home of another prominent busi- 
ness man, whose wife had been her classmate in college 
and who cheerfully gave her the full use of her drawing 
room and parlors for an hour, together with a solemn 
promise to ask no questions as to the purpose or out- 
come of the event. He confessed the whole story to me 
years after. 

BURGLARIES. 

During_jiiy twenty-five years experience as special 
policeman there have been three burglaries on my beat. 
Two of them occurred one Sunday afternoon when I was 
not on duty, and the other came one night about thirty 
days later. None of the burglars were caught and iden- 
tified, but the man whose store was robbed in the night, 
and whose place was one of my charges, doubled my 
salary the next month. Somehow I never regarded that 
act in any other light than as appreciation of my ability 
to mind my own business. 

SERGT. HOWARD'S FLY DIE,T. 

Years ago, when Sergeant Howard, many years a 
member of the police force, occupied the position of 
roundsman, the Windsor Hotel was not kept in as good 
style as it now is, but it was a place where night men 
on the force were always welcome. It was long a custom 
of the house, as it should be of all well regulated hotels, 
to set out a warm lunch for them about midnight and 
the men would drop in and eat together. One hot night 
Roundsman Howard came in to lunch with the others. 
The light in the room was not very bright and after get- 
ting about half through with a bowl of soup he dis- 
covered that it was full of flies. He immediately went 
out and ''Europed." That was the last of his soup eating 
there and he never suspected that any on'e in the party 
had swept up a handful of flies from a wall where they 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



47 



were roosting and salted his soup with them. In return 
for the night favors it was customary to send persons 
coming from late trians and inquiring for a hotel to the 
Windsor. Mr. Howard's diet of flies has always been a 
fresh spot in his memory. 



JOHN M., AND HIS CANNON. 

John M. Ewing once had a cannon at his command, 
a regular old bruiser which did service in the war of the 
Rebellion. It was at the close of the Blaine and Logan 




'' 'Doc/ The Devil is to Pay Here." 

campaign when the result hung in the ballance for days, 
and Cleveland and Hendricks were finally declared 
elected. 

Mr. Ewing had served as Secretary of the Republican 
State Central Committee and was confident of a Repub- 
lican victory in the whole country. A few days before 
the election he sent to Madison and had one of the brass 
cannon which adorn the Capital park sent in for the 
purpose of firing a salute over the result. 

On election night a big crowd of Republican saviors 
of the party and country were at the old Miner residence, 
then standino- on the site of the Hotel Pfister, which was 



48 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

headquarters of a Republican club. Returns were being 
received there by a special wire. John had the cannon 
brought into the yard and left it there alone to be used 
at the proper time. He neither placed a guard over it 
nor took the ramrod away. During the evening I dis- 
covered it and carried the ramrod over to the Stafford 
store and put it inside. 

Along about midnight I came around again. John 
and half a dozen other enthusiasts were out in the yard in 
a high state of excitement, searching for that ramrod. I 
had been around to Democratic headquarters and had 
seen a private dispatch to Ed. Wall, from New York, 
which satisfied me that it wouldn't be wise for John to do 
any shooting with that cannon that night. As I came 
into the yard John ran up to me and said: 

" 'Doc,' the devil's to pay here! Somebody has stolen 
the ramrod to our gun. Blaine is elected and we can't 
start the celebration." 

"So-o-o?" said I. "John, did you leave that gun out 
here without a guard? It's a wonder the enemy hasn't 
spiked it as well as stolen the ramrod." 

John was in a great sweat. I called him aside and 
told him not to worry about the ramrod, or be in a hurry 
about celebrating unless he wanted to do something he 
wouldn't be proud of in his old age. He upbraided me 
a little for trifling with him, but nearly fainted when I 
told him the contents of the private dispatch I had seen. 
He concluded that it would be just as well to defer the 
shooting a little while and decided to tell the crowd 
inside it was because the ramrod had been stolen, but that 
he had sent a man to make a new one which would be 
there in less than an hour. 

Before the hour was up the Republicans received in- 
formation which fully reconciled them to the idea of de- 
ferring the shooting, and John M. Ewing still insists that 
I saved him from disgracing himself by celebrating a 
Democratic victory, through my cuss^dness in stealing 
the ramrod to his cannon. 

SUTTER'S ELECTRIC LIGHTS. 
The first electric light that glimmered in Milwaukee 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



49 



was owned by a photographer named Harry Sutter. He 
had a gallery on the top floor across Milwaukee street 
from the postoffice and he was a genuine genius. He 
got his apparatus in shape and produced a brilliant light. 
Then he got a strong reflector by which he could throw 
the light any reasonable distance and land it where he 
pleased. One night he trained it on a window of Henry 
Wehr's saloon at No. 1, Grand avenue and, though the 
distance was four ordinary blocks, he poked a glow of 
light through that window which made the crowd present 
hop around as though a ball of lurid lightning had 
dropped among them. 

Harry was watching for the elTect, and before the dis- 
turbed ones had time to locate the cause of disturbance, 
he slipped a black card board before the light and waited 
for matters to become quiet. After a few minutes he let 
the light on again, just long enough to raise a commo- 
tion. He kept up that sort of play for nearly an hour, 
until the placid temper of Henry Wehr actually became 
ruft^ed and, after much perseverance he was able to lo- 
cate the light, then he put on his coat and hat and started 
out to squelch the long range intruder. 

As Henry was passing the lamp post at Broadway and 
Wisconsin street, Harry discovered him and suspected 
some disturbance at his end of the show, if he wasn't 
headed ofif. In half a minute he shifted the reflector and 
dropped the light plump into Henry's face just as he 
was at the hallwav at 107 Wisconsin street. Henry was 
nearly blinded by the dazzling glimmer and dodged into 
the hallway to escape it. 

Harry saw the movement and turned the light, with 
full force, upon the stairway entrance. Then he slipped 
out, locked the door, ran down two flights of stairs, then 
down Milwaukee to Michigan street and around and up 
Broadway to Wisconsin. He then walked up Wisconsin 
street to where the popular saloon keeper was a prisoner 
and asked him what was the matter. Henry was trem- 
bling and said he believed an electric gattling gun was 
trained upon him from that d-^d photographer's place. 

Harry said he suspected it was a young fellow who 
was learning photography up there and who was playing 



50 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

with a big lamp and looking glass reflector, but as he 
knew Mr. Sutter very well he would go up and ask hirm 
to stop the annoyance. 

'Ty dunder," said Henry, "eef I know him purty well, 
I lick him like blitzen the first time I catch him on the 
street. He haf spoilt my peesiness for the night already 
vonce." 

Henry refused to leave his fortification until the light 
was turned off and Harry often said he believed his 
adroitness saved him from a thumping. 



NEWSPAPER ROOST. 

Away back in the old time newspaper days of the 
Republican and News the newspaper men of the city 
had a sort of club room in which there were some pieces 
of green top furniture and other things not constructed 
exactly like writing desks. The then manager of the 
roost now ranks pretty well up, in the papers, as a Mich- 
igan editor. Whatever was done in that place was done 
and no disturbing hand was raised against it. The news- 
paper men were, of course, on good terms with the 
brewers and pretty nearly every brewery distributing 
wagon which passed that way left a case of beer at the 
foot of the stairs. There were some people who thought 
that was not a good place to leave beer, especially in hot 
weather, as it might get too warm, or in cold weather, as 
it might freeze. However that might have been, the 
night policeman and w^atchmen and some other people in 
that locality were seldom short of a bottle of beer when 
they wanted it. They rather appreciated the manager's 
neglect to take care of the beer when it was delivered. 

SHE DIDN'T DO WASHING. 

Away back in the days when Policeman Dodge was 
station keeper in the old police station I had a bit of 
experience with a buxom young woman in it. It was 
about 2:30 o'clock on a summer morning and the first 
streaks of approaching day were beginning to show in 
the east. She came down Wisconsin street with a big 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



51 



market basket full of clothes on her arm and a pair of 
shoes tied to the handle of the basket. 

"Good morning, my good woman," said I, "you are 
out early for your day's washing." 

"Well, I may be out early, but I don't do washing," 
she retorted with a snap in her tone. 




''Will, I Don't Do Washing." 

That was her fatal mistake. If she'd said: "Yis sor, 
and Oi'm hurryin' away to Miss Grane's on Twinty-third 
strate, so to git the job done and be home in time to git 
dinner," she would have been all right. 

"O, you don't do washing? Beg jour pardon, madam, 
but T thought from appearance that perhaps you did 
washing," said I. 

"Well, I don't do washing," she snapped. 



52 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



'*But, if you don't do washing, what do you do with 
so large a basket of clothes as that at this time of night?" 
I asked walking along at her side. 

"Well, I don't do washing, and that settles it," was 
her reply. 

I walked along with her and kept her talking until 
we walked into the old police station, where she told 
Dodge a highly plausible story about having a sister 
living somewhere on Fourth street for whom she was 
looking- Dodge gave her a cot in the women's depart- 
ment and in the morning she went out to look for her 
sister. In about an hour a message came from the In- 
•dustrial school that a girl had escaped during the night 
and stolen a lot of clothes. Ofificer Pat Howe was de- 
tailed to look after her and, about noon, found her in 
Wauwatosa, waiting to take a train for her home in 
Portage. 

ONE ON MR. HANNIFIN. 

Not all of the good things I have discovered mater- 
ialized in the night. I usually go down towii in the 
afternoon and, from force of habit, I presume, linger 
around the Chapman store, in former years, frequently 
going inside and taking a general look through the store, 
so I would know the location of things if anything oc- 
curred in the night. 

One day when I was in the store Manager Hannifin 
was in a high rage. It seemed he had ordered a lot of 
printed matter, which was to have been delivered nearly 
a week before and it hadn't come yet. He had sent a 
messenger to the printing office, who brought back the 
announcement that the job would be done next day. 
That set Mr. Hannifin on edge and he made use of sev- 
eral new combinations of very impressive cuss words 
over the delay. 

A few minutes after the printer who had the job in 
hand came in with a proof sheet of the work and went to 
the head of the department in which it was to be used 
to have it approved. As he started to leave, the head 
of the department remarked : 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



5-5 



"Mr. Hannifin is hotter than a furnace about this job 
not having been done on time and swears it is the last 
job you will ever get from this store. Don't let him see 
you. Keep out of sight until he cools off. There he is 
now! Get in the office here and hide behind a desk until 
he goes off. the floor!" 




''It's a Terror of a Place. Uh, uh, 0!" 

"Not much," said John. "You just watch my 
smoke." 

John had entered the store at a lively gait, indicating 
perfect health in body and limb. Instantly he clapped a 
hand on his right hip and began hobbling toward the 
manager apparently in great agony and hardly able to 
navigate. 

"Hello, John, what the devil is the matter with you?" 
asked the manager. 

'*Sav, Mr. Hannifin, I think vou ought to have a lot 



54 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



of salt or ashes scattered on that walk out there," said 
John. *'It is awful bad. If some woman Iiad fallen on 
it she might have been terribly injured and you'd have a 
big damage suit on your hands. O! O! Ouch!" and he 
fairly writhed with agony and rubbed his hip and back. 

''What? Did you fall?" asked Mr. Hannifin. 

"Fall? I should say I did. It's a terror of a place; 
uh, uh, O!" said John. 

"Really, I hope you are not badly hurt," said the 
manager, his heart melting in sympathy. 

"Hurt! Uh, uh, O! You can feel a big lump there 
on my back now. Don't know as I'll be able to- get 
home," said John. "What I came over for, Mr. Hanni- 
fin, was to see you about that job of printing. We've 
been delayed a little getting the paper and I was afraid 
you would be angry and quit us." 

"O, no, no. That's all right. You know we'd not 
forsake you, John. No hurry about it. Any time this 
week will do. Really, I hope you are not seriously hurt. 
Let me call a carriage to take you home or to a doctor," 
urged Mr. Hannifin, becoming thoroughly alarmed. 

"No, no, no;" said John. "I'll manage to get back 
to the office. But I was afraid you'd be angry about 
the job." 

"Never fear about that. Just count yourself in on a 
perpetual contract for all of our work as long as I am 
here. Let me know how you are getting along to-mor- 
row," said Mr. Hannifin. 

And John hobbled out of the store and kept up the 
limping until he got around the corner out of sight. 
The clerks w^ho had witnessed the interview and caught 
on to the situation were readv to burst with laughter, 
but held their peace, and I doubt if to this day Mr. Han- 
nifin knows that one of the smoothest pantomimes and 
confidence schemes of the age was played upon him 
right in the big store of which he is the manager. 

ATTEMPTED ROBBERY" AT 416. 
Here is one which is a trifle too new to require the 
use of names. The circumstances are still quite fresh in 
the minds of quite a number of persons. 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 55 

A woman had rooms' on Milwaukee street not a bolck 
from the headquarters of the Associated Charities. She 
also had a fine array of diamonds and was reported as 
carrying considerable money with her constantly. One 
night as she was going to her rooms a man seized her in 
the second floor hall, threw her to the floor and pro- 
ceeded to try to rob her of her diamonds and money. 
She screamed wildly and, being unable to smother her 
noise, the would be robber became alarmed, and rushed 
down the stairs, the woman close at his heels shouting: 

"Thief! Murder; Robber! Stop you villain!" 

Quite a number of persons who had heard her cries 
were running toward the place. As the robber broke 
across the street they followed him and he was captured 
at the police patrol barn on Oneida street and locked 
up in the station. He had failed to get either the wo- 
man's diamonds or money. 

The fellow was held in jail for trial, but I don't 
remember of havino- ever seen in print any report of his 
trial. 

JOE HORWITZ AND THE BURGLAR. 

Did you ever stop by a large plate glass window, in 
the night, put the tip of a finger along the glass, press 
pretty snug and drive your finger along the glass at a sort 
of stuttering or jumping-sliding gait? Just try it some 
night when there is a clerk alone in the rear part of the 
store and then get him to try to describe to you the fiend- 
ish noise it makes. 

I tried it one night, years ago, when one Phillips had 
a shoe store where the Hanan De Muth shoe store now 
is. "Joe" Horwitz was clerking for Phillips and was 
in the rear of the store alone shining his shoes prepara- 
tory to going out to an 11 o'clock engagement. As my 
finger went across the glass "]ot'' wouldn't have 
dropped that shoe brush quicker if it had been a red hot 
brick and came out of the store on a run. I fell back a 
few steps and was just advancing again leisurely as he 
ca.me out, pale, trembling and so frightened he could 
scarcely speak. Running up to me he said, panting for 
breath : 



56 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



"Uh, Uhu, liu, 'D — Doc!' There's a burglar in the 
store." 

"O, pshaw," said I, "it's another case of cats. There's 
no burglar in there." 

''Y'e-yes there is," said he, ''right back there in the 
office. 'Si — 'si was blacking my shoes he yelled at me 
in the most helhsh voice 'J-J-Joe-o-o-o!' He's in there, 
sure. I wouldn't go back there for a thousand dollars." 

''Well, go on away, then," said I, ''and have your 
time. "I'll take care of the store and the burglar, too." 

And he went, at a lively gait, looking back about 
every ten steps until he was a block away, confidently 
expecting a burglar to come out and shoot me. I 
locked the door, which he had forgotten to do, and, out 
of mercy to "Joe," kept the story to myself. 



SOME GOOD ONES ON ME. 

Not all of the jokes and tricks played upon persons 
on my beat have been at the expense of others. I have 
been the victim my share of the time. Jake Janssen, of 
Ladd & Janssen, and Herman Hammersmith, in Camp's 
jewelry store, got one on me once. Ladd & Janssen re- 
ceived a consignment of choice wine. I paid for a couple 
of bottles and ordered them sent to my house, for a 
special occasion close at hand. The occasion came and 
I pulled the corks. The bottles contained only Lake 
Michigan water which costs about seven cents a thousand 
gallons. Hammersmith had suggested emptying out the 
wine and filling the bottles with water. After a while they 
asked how my wine was and I re])lied: 

"O, I lost the whole of it. Hired girl put it in the 
refrigerator to get cold and a cake of ice fell on the 
bottles and crushed both of them. At least she said so, 
and I guess it was so, for I saw her clearing the broken 
bottles out from the ice." 

Not so long ap-o l:)Ut I rememlx^r it very distinctly Mr. 
Hammersmith wanted to sell me a bicycle. I took rather 
kindlv to the idea and he said if I would go up to the 
Farwell avenue riding school and learn to ride he would 
deduct the cost at the school from the price of the 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 57 

wheel. I thought it would be rather nice to ride a wheel 
home and surprise my family, so I went up to the school 
and learned. I did it all in one afternoon, but my hands 
were blistered and torn, my knees were skinned and I 
was pretty nearly pounded into a mass of pulp. I took 
care of my beat that niglit, went to bed in the morning 
and remained there for three days with one of the worst 
cases of rheumatism I ever had. I also had a plenty of 
riding a wheel. All of the roseate hue on the idea of 
surprising my family on a wheel nad vanished, like flow- 
ers that bloom in the sprinp-. 

A few years ago a stranger shot himself in a hallway 
on Milwaukee street. It was early in the evening and 
his body was soon found. I promptly identified him as 
Col. Charley Wheeler. A messenger w^as sent to Mr. 
Wheeler's house to notify his familv and, to the messen- 
ger's surprise, Mr. Wheeler opened the door. The real 
identity of the suicide has not yet been learned. 



SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION. 

Tonce discovered an actual case of spontaneous com- 
bustion. There was opportunity for two cases, but only 
one materialized. A woman pretty well known in Mil- 
waukee had manicure rooms on Wisconsin street. In 
connection with them w^ere her private parlor and sleep- 
ing room. One morning about 2 o'clock, as I was on 
the opposite side of the street, she came hurriedly down 
stairs and excitedly called to me to come over there, 
quick. I ran across the street and she said there must 
be a fire in the building as her rooms were full of smoke. 

I ran up the stairs and opened the door. There was 
no blaze in sight, but the room was quite thick with 
smoke. I at once suspected it was a smoulderer, only 
waiting for a draft of air to start a blaze. Scratching a 
match I began to investigate. On a rear window sill 
was a bunch of waste from which smoke was issuing and 
there was a strong odor of linseed oil. T picked up a 
water pitcher and drenched the waste. There was a his- 
sing sound, as though the .water had struck hot metal. 

Being satisfied that was the source of the smoke, 1 



58 TWENTY-FIVE YEx^RS ON THE STREETS 

opened the windows and the smoke soon disappeared. 
Investigation showed that the woman had oiled a portion 
'Of the floor after 9 o'clock that night, rubbing the oil on 
with a handful oi cotton waste, and then had laid the 
waste on the window sill, on top of half a dozen iron 
screw eyes, a piece of brass or copper wire and a handful 
of rusty nails. In five hours spontaneous combustion 
had developed. 

The woman had been asleep and her lungs were 
pretty well filled with smoke. Sitting at an open win- 
dow gave her some relief, but she thought a swallow of 
brandy was necessary. I trotted ofif to a drug store and 
got her a four ounce bottle full. She got outside of 
the brandy and was soon all right. As I was leaving 
she wanted to know who I was, declared I had saved her 
life and wanted to reward me, then and there, but being 
paid by property owners for my services I was forced to 
decline the reward offered. 



A CASE OF DEAF AND DUMB. 

Some years ago a deaf and dumb man worked both 
sides of the street for several months. He had a pitiful 
story on his slate and the kind hearted contributed 
liberally. I had watched him some time and came to the 
conclusion he could talk if he wanted to. One afternoon 
I caught him in another part of town. His coat was 
buttoned over his slate. He went into a saloon. So did 
I, but paid no attention to him, and ordered a beer. Sud- 
denly I turned and invited him to have one. He heard 
instantly, responded promptly and talked freely. I re- 
ported the fact to the station and he was taken in a day 
or two later. He had in his grip at his boarding house 
between $600 and $700 in gold. That ended his im- 
positions upon Milwaukee people. 

A COSTLY CANDIDACY. 

"Ed." Hackett, *Tom" Ramsey and a few others of 
the old set in which they travelled in former years, once 
put up a very successful job on Fred Callis. It was 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



59 



when Fred kept a saloon on Milwaukee street, between 
Wisconsin and Michigan streets and had a good stock 
of the best imported goods. A city election was ap- 
proaching and there was considerable talk about Alder- 
manic candidates. In those days only a saloon man 
stood any show of an election in the Third ward. 

One night the crowd in question went to Fred's place 
at about 11 o'clock, seated themselves in a private room 
and entered into an apparent earnest consultation. In- 
stead of the usual Milwaukee brew, they ordered a bottle 
of Champagne. Callis nearly fell over at the order, but 
the boys were good payers and being the only ones then 
in the house, he gave his best attention. 

When Fred came in with the order, room for another 
had been provided at the table and he was invited to 
the vacant scat. Proper gravity was observed and as the 
second filling of the glasses was ready for use one of the 
party informed Mr. Callis that they were there on no 
less important business than that of a committee from 
Democratic headquarters with instructions to secure his 
consent to become a candidate for alderman for the 
Third ward, assuring him of the most hearty support and 
a certainty of the nomination, if he would accept it. 

The proposition had the proper swelling efifect upon 
the head of the innocent Michlenberger, which was con- 
siderably enhanced by the further announcement that the 
decision had been made that the Irish in the ward, who 
had always ruled it in the council, w^ould give him their 
united support, following the lead of Hacket, Ramsey 
and the other lights of the party. After due considera- 
tion Fred gave his consent to accept the nomination. 
During the discussion a full dozen bottles of Champagne 
were put out of sight, all furnished by the house, in 
recognition of the honor about to be conferred upon its 
head. 

The matter was left for a further consultation the 
next night, when other partv leaders were to be present, 
and Fred was cautioned to keep profoundly silent about 
it until all details could be arranged. 

The next night the crowd was so much increased by 
leading lights in the party that it took two bottles to go 



60 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

around. The conference was quite lengthy and about 
two dozen bottles were emptied, all in recognition of the 
coming honor. The proceeding was kept up about ten 
days before all details were arranged. During the time 
the party lights consumed over 200 bottles of Fred's 
Champagne, and large numbers of best cigars, all at 
his expense. During the last few days prior to the nom- 
inating convention Fred's candidacy became known and 
he received the congratulations of nearly everybody in 
the Third ward, as well as of large delegations from 
other parts of the city, all of whom, of course, were prop- 
erly entertained. His candidacy cost CalHs something 
over $700 and when the time came, of course an Irish- 
man was nominated. Germany was as far from receiv- 
ing recognition as it had ever been before or as it has 
been since in the Third ward. 



THE CPIAPMAN STORE FIRE. 

I recall the night of the fire in the Chapman store. 
About a quarter of ten as I was oassing the front I 
thought there was a suspicious look around the gas jet 
burning at the rear of the store. Every w^atchman knows 
more fires have been discovered through smoke around 
a burning gas jet than in any other way. 1 watched it 
and my suspicion grew stronger that something w^as 
wrong. The fire chief had often told me to take no 
chances, so I ran to the nearest fire box and pulled in an 
alarm. 

The fire laddies came flying, and by the time they 
arrived there was plenty of fire. Before morning $600,- 
000 worth of property had gone up in smoke. 

Next morning Mr. Chapman stood on the opposite 
corner. Some of his lady clerks were there lamenting 
over the great loss. Turning to them, he said: 

"See here, ladies; the store is gone, but T am here yet. 
Worse things than that might happen." 

A Miss Davis said to me: "Mr. Aubery. unless I mis- 
take the man there will be a new store built here inside of 
six months." 

She was right. On the ()th of the following April 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 6l 

•occurred the opening of the new store, which still occu- 
pies its position as one of the finest institutions of the 
kind in the West, and a grand monument to the skill and 
energy of the man whose efiforts made it. 



LEG OF THE TABLE. 

One winter a company of Seventh ward young bloods 
set out to organize a minstrel show. They had a couple 




'Let's Get Him Out of Here and Thaw Him Out.' 



of rooms in which to rehearse, the same rooms as have 
for some years been occupied by W. C. WiUiams as a 
law office, just across the alley from Heyn's store. Among 
their paraphernalia was a dummy man, stuffed with 
shavings. After a few rehearsals they bursted up, quit 
the business and threw the dummy out through the win- 
dow into the alley. Not long after, I came that way 
-and discovered the dummy in the alley. Having been in 
the rooms one night during rehearsal, I readily under- 
stood what it was. There was a snow squall on at the 



62 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

time and I straightened Mr. Dummy along the side of 
the building and went away. 

Policeman McCormick was then on the Third ward 
beat and I watched for him. In about an hour he came 
along and I said to him : 

"Mc, there's some poor devil laid out down here in 
the alley. I guess we'd better go and take care of him." 

McCormick was agreed and we went to the alley to 
save the fellow from freezing. As Mc. looked at the 
prostrate form he said: 

*'Ah, sure, an' Oi know who it is right well. Sure, 
it's 'Lig of The Table'." 

"Leg of The Table" was a nick-name by which a cer- 
tain Third ward character was known. 

"Well, 'Mc.'," said I, "let's get him out of here and 
take him to the station and thaw him out. You get hold 
of his shoulders and I'll take his legs and we'll carry him 
out." 

As "Mc." got his grip on the shoulders the thing fell 
apart and the shavings scattered out in the alley. Mc- 
Cormick's disgust and chagrin at being sold and having 
identified the thing was inexpressible. He stood and 
looked at the wreck fully a minute and then said: 

" 'Doc' xA^hbry, yez can laugh much as ye loik, but Or 
say thot was a dhirty blaggairdin' thrick. Oi w'uldn't 
moind the joke, but fur hevin, ixprissed me poshitive be- 
laif thot it was 'Lig of The Table,' so Oi w'uldn't." 



POOR LITTLE ORPHANS. 

A good many years ago there was an organization in 
the city known as the Poor Little Orphans club. It was 
composed of a lot of wealthy men, such as James Petley,, 
Q. A. Matthews, I. G. Mann, E. O. Riddell, Rufus Allen, 
and others of that class, all of Yankee birth. During 
winter months they usually held a meeting and had a 
dance each Friday night, always in Severances' hall. 
Their meetings were o>f the real, old, down east Yankee 
sociable order and their lunch always consisted of dough- 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 63. 

nuts, pumpkin pie and cider. One evening's supply was 
usually a bushel of doughnuts, a dozen pies and two to. 
four gallons of cider, which they always got by the bar- 
rel from York state. They were a jolly set and never 
required the presence of a policeman to keep order. The 
club was one of the pleasant organizations which came 
and has gone during my time as guardian of mercantile 
interests in the nights of twenty-five years. 



A MASHER MASHED. 

Not very long ago a Seventh ward dude took a stroll 
down Wisconsin street on a mashing expedition. He 
is an inveterate smoker, and smokes only the best Bar- 
rister cigars. He stepped up to a healthy looking young 
woman who was passing up the street and in an instant 
I saw an umbrella descending upon his head with a mus- 
cular feminine arm at the helm. She not only pounded 
him over the head, but jabbed him in the ribs and soon 
gave him the worst of the deal. I said to myself: 
"That's the kind of girl who ought to come around 
here oltener." I finally went to his rescue, about the 
time the girl went triumphantly away, assured him he had 
been treated badly and advised him to go to a Barber 
shop, as the police were onto his game and might run 
him in. 



POLICEMAN LOST AN EAR. 

Back in the old days there were some high times in 
the Third ward. It was justly entitled to be called "The 
Bloody Third." It held some of the toughest nuts the 
town ever harbored. After there had been several times 
and pieces of times down there in swift succession a 
burly policeman was sent into the territory to straighten 
things out. The "laddiebucks" were a trifle suspicious 
of him and kept in line for awhile. But finally "de b'ys'^ 
got out for a time and he dropped upon them right in the 
midst of trouble. 

Lnmediately there was a change of front on the part 
of the combatants. The contending forces ceased theM- 



64 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

contentions and lined up as one man against the "cop." 
He came out of the melee minus an ear and wearing 
various other wounds and blemishes. One oi the old 
Third's thoroughbreds had bitten off the ear. 

A few days after one old resident of the ward re- 
marked to another: 

''Gud mornan', Mr. O'Brine. Oi hear yer bye has 
got in trouble wid a polaceman." 

"Indade he have, sir," said Mr. O'B., and Oi do be 
thinkin' it's a purty bad mess he's in, so Oi do." 

"And do he still be havin' the aer phat he bit off the 
afifisher?" 

''Yis, he have that same; he have it tacked on the 
corner av the house as a warnin' til the nixt cop phat 
do be sint into the warrud." 

*'Yis, Mr. O'Brine; but if the polaceman do be dyin', 
you'll have to shoot the bye. Sure Oi did be hearin' 
that same this mornin', down to Paddy the Jews." 

"Bedads, if the polaceman doies, then let him come 
afther the bve an' take 'is own revange," said Mr. 
O'Brien. 



FELLOWS MADE HAPPY. 

Not all of my discoveries have turned out bad or been 
without pleasant memories connected. 

One night, a lot of years ago, Mr. A. B. Severance, 
the owner of Severance hall, came to me and said: 

" 'Doc,' I wish you'd keep an eye on my hall nights." 

''Why, what's matter?" said L 

"Well," said he, 'T think there's somebodv sleeping 
up there on the third floor, nights, just outside the danc- 
ing hall door." 

"Owl right," said I; "T'll look after 'em.'' 

About 2 o'clock next morning I went up the stairs 
to the third floor and I had him. There lay a lad about 
a dozen years old, sound asleep. I yanked him up and 
said: 

"What'n thundernation ve doin' here? This is no 
place for vou to sleep. Come out of here and go to the 
station." 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 65 

The little fellow began to beg not to be taken to the 
station and then began to cry. That was too much for 
me. When the little fellow began to squak I weakened 
and thought he was some mother's boy and was not 
personally responsible for his being, or for being home- 
less. So I took nim to a w^arm place where he could 
sleep till morning and then took him home with me. In 
a day or two I got him a job in the Sentinel office at 
three dollars a week. My wife fixed up his clothes, made 
him some more and we gave him a home until things 
shaped differently for him. He cut up a few capers that 
were not quite on the square, but finally got down to 
business, got some education and is now a Milwaukee 
business man and doing well. 

Another youngster in whom I took an interest, hasn't 
forgotten it. He was a little fellow, one of two small 
brothers. Their mother was a widow and sickly and 
the two little ones wxre working to support her. The 
one I picked up was carrying messages for the Western 
Union telegraph ofhce. I got acquainted with him, 
learned his historv. saw he was made of the right stufi 
and one night asked him if he wouldn't like a better job. 
He said that was just what he did want so he could earn 
more for his dear mother. Next day I got him a job in 
a grocery store where he got much better wages. He 
grew up working in that store, and is now a traveling 
salesman for one of the largest whol'sale grocery houses 
in the state, lives in a northern Wisconsin city and has 
a fine familv. 

One day not long ago a fine looking man came to 
me on the street and said: 

"How are you, 'Doc?' I am very glad to see you, 
for I owe you a lot." 

''Guess you're a Httle off," said I. 'T don't recollect 
ever lending you a quarter." 

"Neither do I," said he, "but I do remember when I 
was a friendless little kid carrying messages for $1.50 a 
week and trying to live, and you got me a job as bell 
boy at the Kirby house at $3 a week and board. That 
was my start and set me up in life. I'm running a big 
insurance office in Chicago now^: got a fine home and a 



66 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

nice family, and I owe it all to you. Wish you'd come 
to Chicago, stay a month and be my guest. You bet I'll 
never forget you and my job at the old Kirby. Come 
and see me; give me a chance and I will try to recipro- 
cate." 

But my pick ups haven't all been boys. O, you think 
something now, do you? Well you're off again. I've left 
the other fellows to do the picking up of the she boys. 

One day while looking around town I dropped into 
a hotel on the east side. An intelligent looking man 
was sitting alone. I casually dropped down by him and 
said, "howdy." He responded and I saw at once that he 
had a case of blues. It didn't take me long to find tnat he 
was a foreigner, just arrived here, was a physician and 
financially short. After a few minutes talk I said to him: 

''Come 'long 'n' take little walk with me,'t'll do ye 
good." 

Somehow he seemed to have a bit of confidence and 
came. I took him up street to a drug store, introduced 
him to two resident physicians and suggested that they 
give him a bit of a show. He is one of the prominent 
physician of the city now and has o^ten told me that I 
caught him on the verge of the barren pastures of de- 
spair and turned him into a clover patch which had no 
fence around it. 

But not all of my finds were of this agreeable finish 
kind. I'll make a chapter somewhere in this book of 
some of the others. 



T. A. CHAPMAN. 

At the time of the soldier's reunion here, in 1880, I 
made application to Mr. Chapman and other merchants, 
for a week's furlough. When I said to him: ''Mr. Chap- 
man, I want to get off duty for a week," he looked at me 
and replied: ''What? Whv. that's just the time you 
ought to be on duty." 

"Now, see here," said I, "you take into consideration 
the fact that I put down the rebellion and taught more'n 
half of the Wisconsin troops the manual of arms, and was 
right there every time they won a victory, from start to 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 67 

finish, and you know very well if I were chained to that 
lamp post the boys would release me. You can bet on 
that." 

''Say no more, say no more," said he; "it is all right. 
Put a good man on the beat and enjoy yourself." 

So it was, and we had a good time. 

T. A. Chapman was a part of the noblest work of 
God. He was loved by all who knew him. After many 
years of the hardest work and getting his business in 
proper shape he made Mr. Mills manager of the store, 
thus getting for himself some relief. Then he took to 
being out of doors much, for recreation and health. And 
he seemed to take an interest in evervbody's welfare. He 
purchased some property on Jackson street and prepared 
to build upon it. He was there much of the time super- 
intending the work and enjoyed it. 

I had recently bought a little home which abutted 
against his propertv. One day I was out in the yard 
fixing up a chicken house when he saw me and came 
over and this is about the conversation which followed. 

"What are you doing over there, 'Doc?' " 

"Hello! Is that you, Mr. Chapman? O, just fixing 
up my chicken coop. Looks like I am going to have 
some new neighbors, see? and I don't want to lose any 
of my white Leghorns." 

He took in the situation, for he always liked an in- 
nocent joke. 

"Why don't you fill your lot up there a little, bring it 
to a level, move the barn over on the line and fix it up 
in shape?" said he. 

"Now, look here," said I, "I've just got my little 
home paid for, but have no money in the bank. Another 
year, if I can, I intend to do just that same thing, b'gosh." 

"O, that's it, is it?" said ae. 

"Yes, sir; that's the size of the pile and just what's 
troublin' Hannah and yours truly," said I. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, as he was ac- 
customed to do when thinking, looked me in the eye 
and said: 

"Look here, 'Doc', you go up to Owen Goss, the 
house mover, and see what it will cost vou to have that 



68 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

work done, and done right. D'ye hear? Let me know in 
two days." 

The third day following I met him at the same place 
and he said : 

"Well, 'Doc,' did ye find out about that business?" 

"Yes, sir; I did," said I. 

"How much will it cost?" he asked. 

"Ninety-eight dollars and fifty cents, sir," said I. 

''O, 'twill, will it? Look here, you go and have that 
done right off. Send me the bill and I will make you a 
present of it. Don't let them rob us down at the store." 

That was Timothy A. Chapman, my employer, who 
was a poor boy nimself once, but who proved himself 
one of the noblest works of God, an honest, good man. 

It is not strange that there was general mourning 
when he died. His life history was full of just such acts 
as the one I have related. 



WHERE I CAUGHT A THIEF. 

Years ago, I lived on the west side, out on Third 
street. My usual route down to my beat was across 
Oneida street bridge. One cold night I met a fellow on 
the bridge with a buffalo robe under his arm. I wobbled 
around just a trifle and as I met him said: 

"H'war ye? What got, eh? Buf'lo, eh? Want sell 

He allowed he didn't want to sell it, as he had just 
brought it with nim from Denver and was taking it 
home. I bantered him for a price on it and he finally 
said: "Ten dollars." 

I wanted the robe mighty badly, but had only five 
dollars with me. But I had a friend only a block up the 
street who would lend me the other five. He finally con- 
sented to go back and get the money and in a couple of 
minutes we walked into the old police station. Lieut. 
Kendrick was on duty and stretched back in his chair as 
we walked in. Giving him a signal squint with my lar- 
board eye I said : 

"Cap'n, I want t' buy this man's buf'lo robe for ten 



OF MILAVAUKEE AFTER DARK 69 

dollars and only got five with me. '11 ye lend me five till 
morn'n?'' 

He said he'd lend me the five and keep the robe for 
security. That was satisfactory and he got up, took the 
robe and walked the fellow into a cell. Next day he. was 
sentenced for six months. 

Less than ten minutes before E. R. Pantke had been 
in and reported the theft of a buffalo robe from a hook 
in front of his store and several officers had been sent 
out to look for the thief. The balance of that winter 1 
wore a pair of warm fur gloves, a present from Pantke. 

DAN DAGGETT ON FREE LUNCH. 

About 3 o'clock one morning, Dan Daggett, in his 
normal condition for that hour, had full possession of 
the Wisconsin street sidewalk, on the postoffice side, and 
was water-logging up the street toward his rooms. He 
was the same Dan that, one other morning, kicked a 
defenseless skunk off" the sidewalk, mistaking it for a cat. 

Earlier in the night a bill poster had spilled a bucket 
of paste on the sidewalk, and it made a big, gray puddle. 
Dan approached the mess, rolling like an old schooner 
in a heavy sea, braced l^imself, cocked his head to the 
left and looked at it and blurted out : 

" 'At fel' mus' struck mighty big free lunch, hie, 
b'gosh. Damfool, might known couldn't git 't all home 
'ith 'im." 



EXPERIENCE WITH A MAD DOG. 

There was, in my early years on the street, a pretty 
tliorough sport in town known as Flarry. He was a 
genuine .rounder and could carry more booze in his tank 
and not show it than any other three fellows in the city 
Harry had two dogs, one a pretty fair-sized bull, the 
other apparently a cross between a water spaniel and a 
Scotch terrier. They knew his haunts as well as he did 
and would take his trail at Tenth street and locate him 
in some one of the half-dozen saloons then on Milwau- 
kee street at any hour, day or night. Harry was a thor- 



70 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

ough stayer and comer. He was last to turn in at night 
and first around in the morning. 

A good-natured Irishman kept a saloon in the Third 
ward, just south of the Seventh ward line. He took con- 
siderable pains to make things pleasant for the boys, and 
for a time held a good share of their patronage. 

Early in August another Irishman opened a saloon 
in a basement a couple of doors away. He was up to his 
businessand understood the importance of a round on the 
house frequently. It wasn't long until the crowd drifted 
to his place as headquarters, practically deserting his 
countryman, who had a just claim to priorty of location 
on the street. 

The mixer of jag seed who had been deserted by the 
crowd for a new love felt the abandonment keenly and 
•offered two thoroughly alive Third ward chaps all the 
<irinks they wanted for a month free, if they would play 
a good joke on the new comer and chase the gang out 
of his place. 

It was right in the heat of dog days and there had 
been several mad dog stories in the papers. One sultry 
night, about 10 o'clock, Harry's dogs came down on 
his trail. The fellows for whom the free drinks were in 
store were lying for them. They inviegled them into a 
back room a few doors distant where they had a bucket 
of foamy lather made with a cake of soap just on the 
market, which was warranted to make a lather that would 
hold its foam an hour. This lather they slashed over 
the head, neck, mouth and shoulders of the larger dog 
and then let them out. 

The dogs made a bee line for the new saloon, went in 
on the bound and flew around the room in search of 
their master. At that moment one of the conspirators 
stuck his liead over the stairway by the open door and 
yelled: 

"Mad dog! Mad dog! Look out there!" 

As the eyes of the crowd caught on the dog with its 
head and neck flecked with foam there was a tumult of 
yells and a rush for the door. The shouting frightened 
the dogs and they also made for the door. The rear 
guard of the rush grabbed a chair and bv one swoop 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 71 

sent both dogs to the rear of the room and the crowd 
escaped onto the street. Every one was fully convinced 
it was a genuine mad dog. Half an hour later most of the 
gang were in the saloon of their first love where the two 
who worked the game regaled them with blood curdling 
stories about the narrow escapes of half a dozen persons 
from the jaws of that same dog as he came down through 
the First and Seventh wards. 

Next day the daily papers all had the story of the 
mad dog and the narrow escape of a score of persons. 
Before the fellows got onto the joke they had forsaken 
the new saloon entirely and the other fellow had a flour- 
ishing trade again. 



AN ESCAPED LUNATIC. 

It was about 2 o'clock one September morning, the 
sky clear and the air just a trifle cool. As I crossed 
from the Chapman store and started down Wisconsin 
street I saw coming up the street an athletic built fellow 
fully six feet high, and well proportioned. He acted a 
little queer, I thought, as he seemed to be watching in 
every direction. I walked towards him and as he came 
near he darted into a hallway and ran part way up the 
dark stairs. As I came up to the entrance he said: 

"Don't shoot! For God's sake don't!" and there was 
a piteous tone to his appeal. 

My first_ thought was that he was some fellow with 
a case of the fruits of over-indulgence in flim-flam 
whisky, vulgarly known as "jim jams, or snakes," and 
said : 

"What's matter, old man? Who's goin' to shoot? 
Nobody's going to shoot you while I am here; you can 
bet on that." 

"Is that so?" he asked, "are you my friend?" 

"You bet I am," said I, "what made you think I was 
going to shoot?" 

" 'Cause I met another fellow" down the road and he 
threatened to shoot me. I thought everybody was go- 
ing to shoot." 

"No; nobodv wil shoot vou. Come on down here and 



72 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

let's talk the matter over," said I. 

He came down the stairs and looked wildly in every 
direction and 1 saw at once that his head had gone 
wrong. It was about time for the regular officer to come 
along and my play w^as to interest him until reinforce- 
ments arrived. So I went at him in a matter of fact way, 
not appearing to watch him at all. 

''What's your name?" I asked. 

"Adam," was his reply. 

"Adam? Adam what? Nothing but just Adam?" 
I asked. 

"That's all," said he, "just Adam. Y^ou've heard 
about me, ain't you. I owned a farm out here a couple 
of miles. My first wife's name w^as Eveline. The neigh- 
bors called her 'Eve.' She got me into trouble with my 
landlord, a long time ago, and I got a divorce from her. 
I've got along better since." 

"O, yes;" said I, "I remember about you now. Where 
you been living lately?" 

"Don't live anywhere," said he, "just stay wherever 
I happen to be." 

"By this time I concluded that it was a bad case on 
my hands and I had a growing desirejor the appearance 
of the regular officer on the beat, yet I couldn't foretell 
what efifect the sight of another person might have on 
him. He w^as getting uneasy and was liable to break 
away any minute. Seeing that some move nmst be 
made I asked: 

"Where w^as it that fellow threatened to shoot you?" 

"Right down this road, just this side of the w^oods, 
right there near the milldam, where the stump fence 
runs up against the stone w^all," said he. 

"Then we'd better take a walk this way," said I, "and 
come around the other side of the woods, or, if you like, 
I'll take you over to my house and give you a bed. I 
don't want anybody to shoot you." 

He w^as agreed and we walked up Milwaukee street 
to Mason, then down to Broadway and in ten minutes 
poor Mr. Adam was in a cell in the police station. He 
was one of the most dangerous lunatics at the Wauwa- 
tosa asylum and had escaped that night. Next morning 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 73, 

it took six good men to handle him and get him back to 
the asyhmi, where the poor fellow died the next year. 



BOY BAILED OUT. 

Fifteen to twenty years ago there was a young sport, 
son of a wealthy citizen, who was often getting himself 
into trouble. About once a month he would send for 
me to come over and bail him out of the police station. 
He always fixed matters up next day and I felt it a sort 
of duty to help him out. After a while his father learned 
what was going on. He hunted me up and said: 

''Look here, 'Doc/ if you want to have any comfort 
around this town don't you bail that boy of mine out of 
the station again. Just you tell them to send for me 
next time." 

Of course, I obeyed and said nothing, but, some way, 
the boy caught on and kept straight for quite a while, 
but one night up came a messenger boy with a request 
for a deposit of $31. 

"0,'no;" said I, "not this time. I have my orders. 
Go and tell his father." 

Next day, just before the "consolation carriage" left 
for the House of Correction, Willie was bailed out and 
sent out west to grow up wath the country. He is now 
a prosperous business man in St. Paul. 

INCIDENTS WITH FIRES. 

There have been a good many incidents in connection 
with fires. Some of them have been too serious to dis- 
cuss Hghtly. One of that kind occurred at the fire in 
Charley Kraus' saloon, near the Academy of Music. 

A fire occurred at the same place a few years before, 
when a dressmaker who had rooms on the second floor 
was overcome by smoke and firemen carried her down 
a ladder. As was the case with Mrs. Kraus, she had" 
plenty of time to have gotten down the stairs, but got 
rattled and didn't know what to do. 

In the olden times small fires were occasionally _ex- 
tinijuished without calling out the department. The 



74 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

regular policeman and I discovered one in the rear part 
of a small store on Mason street. A Kerosene lamp had 
gO'ne wrong and the blaze around it was just starting. 
We kicked the door open and put out the fire with a 
pail of water which was in the store. 

The owner of the building lived over the store. Our 
kicking the door open awoke him. He slipped into his 
trowsers, ran to the police station and said there were 
burglars in Munn's store. Two policemen came back 
with him on a run, just as we w^re fixing up the door. 
No chances are taken on putting out fires by hand now. 



EXPERIENCES WITH VETERANS. 

Naturally I have had some experiences with some 
of the old fellows who helped to save their country dur- 
ing the war. Eor a long time I was an easy mark for 
such of them as were given to absorbing the supply of 
their needs ofif others, and there is no use denying that 
there is occasionally one of that class. All of the clerks 
in my bailiw^ic were aware of my friendship for those old 
fellows and would send the stranded and strapped ones to 
hunt me up. I don't know that I ever refused to help 
one along unless I knew he didn't deserve it. 

There w^as one old fellow who was in a habit of get- 
ting outside the picket line, at the Soldier's Home pretty 
frequently, and he would as often fall on me for the loan 
of a quarter, after the last car toward the home had gone. 

''Just a quarter, 'Doc,' " he would say, "to piece me 
out till morning, for I can't get back to the home to- 
night. Just a quarter, till my pension comes; then I'll 
fix it up all right. 

The thing got monotonous and I resolved to stop it. 
The next time he struck me for a quarter, ''just to get a 
bed till morning,' I said to him: 

"See here, Mr. Second Division, Sixth Corps, you and 
I have selpt on the ground, down in Johnny Reb land, 
lots of times, eh?" 
"Y^ou bet we have, 'Doc,' " said he. 

"Well, see here, you just take this note over to Ser- 
geant O'Connor, at the police station, he's good fellow 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 75 

and will give you a bed for the night, dam sight better'n 
we had next night after Bull Run." 

That fellow made a bee line down the street and I 
never saw him again. 

Another whom I recall used to come down and stay 
with me pleasant nights till I went home in the morning, 
then he would go home with me, get a good sleep and 
dinner and in the afternoon I would take him to the 
home in my buggy. Poor Jack Rowell ! He was a good 
soldier, one of ^en. Braggs Iron Brigade boys. Flis 
grave is No. 45 in the Soldiers' Home cemetery and no 
one is better strewn with flowers on each memorial day, 
and an American flag and a little red pack, familiar to all 
First Corps men, are placed at the head of his last 
bivouac, and I am thus reminded of what his old com- 
mander once said: 

"Here's to our boyhood, its gold and its gray, 
The stars of its winter, the dews of its May; 
And when we have ended all earthly joys, 
Then, dear Father, take care of the boys." 



ONE OF THE BRAVE AND TRUE. 
I think it was about fifteen years after the war closed 
and I had located in Milwaukee that I frequently saw a 
man in the city whose face and movements seemed 
familiar to me, but I could not locate him satisfactorily. 
He would appear every two or three weeks, carrying a 
g-rip and going to or from a train. Finally, one night, 
I stopped him and asked if he had been in the arn-.y. He 
said he had, and was in the Iron Brigade. Yes, he re- 
membered the newsboy of that organization, and right 
there wc renewed old acquaintance, which is sure to re- 
main fresh and often re-renewed while we remain on 
this side of the shadowy land. That man was Col. J. A. 
Watrous, one of the bravest men who ever faced a deadly 
and determined foe and whose heart of kindness goes out 
in sympathy to all humanity everywhere, a man who has 
given as much of the best of his life for tne benefit of 
his country and his fellow man as any man ever has, 
whose lovaltv never falters and who never le^ts an op- 



70 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



portunity to do a kindly act pass unimproved. If he 
should happen to be the last survivor of that great army 
of loyal and true men whose efforts saved this govern- 
ment from destruction by its foes of bygone days, I be- 
lieve he would be of all men the most miserable and un- 
happy, for there would be no one of his comrades in arms 
left for him to think for, do for, try to make more com- 
fortable and happy than he might otherwise be. Y'et all 
hope he may live thus long. 



LEO AND THE DOG. 

King Leopold had a namesake in Milwaukee, in fact, 
quite a number of them, but one in particular I have in 
mind. He had plenty of cash and did not always fly 

I 




Went Out With the Old Year. 

low. A drug store at the corner of Wisconsin and Mil- 
waukee streets was a favorite place with him. That lo- 
cality was also a general loafing place for a not very 
valuable dog which nobody seemed to own, but those 
familiar with him called him George. The dog had be- 
come considerable of a nuisance. He had a habit of 
running into the street and snarling at a passing vehicle, 
often setting his teeth on a wheel and sometimes would 
hang on and go around with it during several revolu- 
tions. 

One New Year's eve the King's namesake concluded 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 7; 

it was time to get rid of that dog. Of course, as the old 
year passed into Time's big morgue and the young one 
mounted his pegassus, bells and whistles were tied loose 
and a bable of noises was on. The conspirators 
with an abundance of red and blue fire from the drug- 
store doorfar into the street. As Chief Foley pulled 
the fire department bell, a signal for ah to let 'er go, the 
drug store door was opened and the dog sent out with a 
kick and a bundle of tinware securely tied to his tail. 
He came out with a bound and a yelp, a blaze of red fire 
on either side of him, and struck a bee line down tow- 
ards Grand avenue. The bridge tender said he crossed 
the river at the third tap of the fire bell. Policeman 
John O'Brien reported him far out on Grand avenue at 
12:01 o'clock. The ofhcer at the city limits gave his 
record there as 12:02, with his nose due west. His rec- 
ord at Wauwatosa was 12:08 and on the road to Ocono- 
mowoc. That ended George's loafing at the drug store. 



FRITZ AND HIS DOG. 

There was once a German tailor known only as Fritz. 
I think the balance of his name was Kadow. He worked 
some years for Brenk Bros., when their shop was on 
Milwaukee street. Fritz was a bachelor, lived by himself 
in a couple of rooms in the Fourth ward. He had a dog, 
a sort of a brindle, stub-tailed cur with which he shared 
his room and his mess. Some of Fritz's remarks to that 
dog have become current as a story among men. The 
dog was a lazy whelp and much of the time remained at 
home loafing in the room. On other days he would go 
to the shop with Fritz, crawl under his master's bench 
and sleep the time aw-ay between meals, always sharing in 
the noon lunch. One day w^hen Fritz had taken the 
smaller end of the lunch he sat on the bench and looked 
at his dogship in a thoughtful mood. After several min- 
utes reflection he broke out thus: 

"You dhink you vas a tog, eh? I dhink so neder. 
Jah, you vas a tog. I vas Fritz. I vish I vas you und 
you vas me. Afery tay I vork me hart vile you schleeb. 



78 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

I git me in the morning up imd gooks der breakfast vile 
you schleeb. I feeds you und go me to vork und you go 
to schleeb. Ad noon I gif you tinner und you go to- 
schleeb. Ad night I go me home und gooks der subber 
und feets you und you go to schleeb, vile I vork me some 
more und dhink. Pime py, some tay you go det, dhen I 
dakes me my schoffel und tigs in der yart a hole und 
puts you in id, und dhat vas der ent of you. Pime py, 
some tay agin yit I tie vonce. Dhen what? Dhen I 
got to go to hell yet." 

There is no certainty but Fritz would have been still 
talking to the dog in the same strain had not Casey, the 
bookkeeper, who had been listening at the partially open 
back door, walked into the shop at that moment. 



DOVES FROM SPIRIT LAND. 

Time was when I may have been something of a 
spirituahst, but I got over it, survived, ''passed out" 
from under the cloud and am all right now in the rock- 
ribbed faith of my earlier years. Years ago, a well- 
known spiritualist named Dickenson presented me two^ 
doves, with the injunction to guard them with choicest 
care, as they were sacred. According to the story he 
had recently been in Boston and while there visited a 
materialistic medium, who gave examples of manifesta- 
tions. At one of his seances the room was darkened 
when two doves flew down at his feet, sent direct from 
the spirit world, and these were the ones brought to 
Milwaukee and presented to me. I took them home, 
gave them the best of care and it nearly broke my heart 
when, a few days later they both died, or rather, as the 
spirituaHsts say, ''passed out." 

A day or two later I met a young nephew of the 
noted spirituali'st and asked him if he knew anything 
about those doves his uncle gave to me. He replied: 

"Of course I do. I know all about them. They 
were mine before they were yours. One day uncle and 
I were down to the German market and I saw a lot of 
doves in a box. They belonged to a Polish woman 
up in the Eighteenth ward and were for sale. I wanted 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



79, 



a pair of them and uncle said he would buy them for me. 
She asked 15 cents apiece for them, but uncle got the 
pair for a quarter. I took them home, but soon became 
tired of them and he gave them to you. That is all there 
is about the doves." 

Unless some fakir of the Ethical Society gets up a 
seance and causes the spirits of those doves to material- 
ize, I shall believe the boy's story rather than his uncle's, 
and will take no more stock in Spiritualism, unless it 
comes at a discount and through a reliable stock broker. 



A PEW SITTING SHOP LIFTER. 

In former years it was my custom during holiday 
seasons to spend the afternoons in the Chapman store, 
on the watch for shoplifters. One day I discovered a 
woman in the act of harvesting a fine silk muffler on the 
counter and garnering it in her muff. A gentleman now 
engaged in real estate business was then floor walker in 
that store. I reported the case to him and pointed out 
the woman. When approached by him regarding the 
matter she promptly surrendered the muffler, claiming 
she had picked it up on the floor. I asked him if he did 
not intend to prosecute her and he said: 

**No, I guess not. She sits in the pew in front of me 
at church every Sunday." 



HUNGRY FOR LATIN. 
When the Pierce block, corner of Wisconsin and Mil- 
waukee streets, was rebuilt, in 1896, there was much 
lavishness connected with its equipment. Its owner was 
understood to have several barrels of money and didn't 
seem to care how he spent it. Among other things he 
hired a skilled engineer who was anxious to become a 
Latin scholar, and had a mania for drinking wood al- 
cohol. When Ladd &Janssen became settled in the cor- 
ner store they made a fine window display of various 
imported waters, wines and liquors. There was an acro- 
batic comedian in town who gave exhibitions at the 
shutes and was advertised as hailing from Boston, In 



So TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

the Third ward, where he hved, he was known as '"J^^'^'y 
from Boston." One night Jerry and the engineer stood 
in front of the window, when this conversation passed 
between them: 

Engineer — '7^^^)^ what is the meaning of spirit fru- 
menti, which I saw on a bottle in the store?" 

Jerry — "O, that's the best rye whiskey." 

Engineer — "What is vini gaU?' 

Jerry — "What, O, that's peach brandy." 

Engineer — ''Then what is sic semper tyrannis?" 

Jerrv-^"The best grade of port wine." 

Engineer — 'T saw a bottle labelled 'Hie Jacet Gloria 
Mundi.' What's that?" 

Jerry — "The best and oldest sherry wine to be found 
in the world." 

The engineer died suddenly a few months later, either 
from an overdose of wood alcohol or impacted Latin on 
the brain. 



HOW I FOUND GUITEAU. 

Probably very few persons now living in Milwaukee 
are aware that Charles J. Guiteau, the assassin of Presi- 
dent Garheld, w^as ever a resident of this city. He lived 
here, but, I think, for only a few months. 

In November, 1*880, one Harold Emmons, a lawyer 
now residing in Michigan, had his law office in the Mar- 
shall block, corner of Wisconsin street and Broadway. 
His rooms were the same as are now occupied by Col. 
A. G. Weissert, past commander in Chief of the Grand 
Army of the Republic. About 1 o'clock, one morning, 
as I was looking through the building, on my usual 
round, there was a bright light in Mr. Emmons' room. 
Such an occurrence was quite a distance from the usual, 
and I concluded to investigate. 

Opening the door I walked in and there was a wiry- 
built, weazen-faced, snakish-eyed, dark-completed man, 
apparently of French construction, pacing up and down 
the back room rehearsing Shakespeare at a rate sufficient 
to beat a wdiole band of incipient tragedians preparing 
for a season of infliction upon a suffering public. 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 8l 

The room pacer appeared considerably excited. He 
offered me a chair, but said nothing about fumigating, or 
anything in my particular line, and I excused myself 
upon the ground that a light in Mr. Emmons' rooms so 
late at night was rather over the fence from the usual, 
and I merely wanted to see if everything was all right. 
He said he had rented desk room there for awhile, and I 
bid him good night and made my escape. 

Next day I met Mr. Emmons and said to him: 

"What sort of a French freak have you got in your 
rooms?" 

"O," said he, "I just rented him desk room for a 
few months, and wish 1 hadn't. I guess the thing has 
shipped its rudder. F'll have to get rid of him." 

'Tt wasn't long until the freak was gone from those 
rooms and I neither saw nor heard of him again until the 
2d day of the following July. I came down town in the 
afternoon and stopped at the T. A. Chapman store when 
Jake Segar told me Garfield had been assassinated by a 
fellow named Guiteau. 

I remarked that I believed it was the same freak that 
had desk room in Lawyer Emmons' office, and related 
my discovery of and short interview with him. I have 
since corresponded with Sergeant Mason, the man who 
tried to avenge Garfield's death, and here is a copy of the 
letter he wrote me: 

"Locust Grove, Va.. March 18, 1894. 

"C. B. Aubery, Milwaukee, Wis. Dear Sir: Your 
letter of Feb. 23d received. I live on a farm twenty 
miles from Fredericksburg in Orange county, Va., with 
my wife and four children; Charles-, born Nov. 30, 1880; 
Lucy, born April 3d, 1885; Will, born Feb. 3d, 1889, 
and Joseph, born Jan. 4th, 1892. 

"1 was in the Seventy-eighth Ohio regiment, Second 
Brigade, Third Division, Seventeenth corps. I was dis- 
charged at Indianapolis, Ind., Jan 6, 1865, having served 
three years. I then enlisted in the regular army at Fred- 
ricksburg, Va., July 15, 1860, and served until Septem- 
ber 188L At that time I was First Sergeant of Battery 
B, Second Artillery. My love and sympathy for Gar- 
field outweighed my military discipline and T sent a bul- 



82 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



let into his assassin's cell in the hope that I might get 
the villain. It was dark and I couldn't see him, yet my 
intentions were good enough, so I let it go, hit or miss. 
I was tried, got eight years in penitentiary as my sen- 
tence, served twenty months and was pardoned. 

''Hoping to some time see you and tell you more 
than I can write I am 

*'Yours Truly, 

"J. A. Mason." 

While on a recent visit to Fredricksburg I tried to 
see Mr. Mason, but as he lived twenty miles away and 
my time was limited I had to deny myself the pleasure. 



HORSELESS MAIL WAGONS. 

There isn't many evenings in the year that A. B. 
Geilfus doesn't come down town from his home in the 




' 'One of Perth's Horseless Wagons. 

Seventh ward, -walk around a few blocks and then walk 
home. He does it for exercise. One night, not long 
ago, I met him about 9 o'clock, on Wisconsin street, and 
remarked: 

"George Forth is right up to date." 
"How is that?" he asked. 

"Running mail from the postofifice to the railroadl 
stations with horseless wagons," I replied. 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



83 



"Well, I declare? Is that so?" asked the water 
registrar. 

*'Yes, sure;" said I. "One of the wagons just passed. 
Didn't you see it?" 

"No," said he. "What power does he use? Gasoline 
engines or electricity?" 

"Mules," said 1, and his cane just missed my hat. 



JOHN AND HIS STAND. 

John Bacigalupo, — most everybody knows him only 
as John — is a scion from Italy who keeps a fruit stand 




"And the Flag- is Still There." 

on the Milwaukee side of the Bunde & Upmeyer store. 
John and his stand have been there a good many years. 
Prior to the summer of 1881 his stand was on the corner 
of the sidewalk, at the store. Then preparations were on 
for a big reunion of veterans of the war and Mayor T. H. 
Brown ordered all fruit stands removed from street cor- 
ners. As I came down town one afternoon John came 
running to me in great excitement and asked : 

" 'Doc' what I goin' t' do? Tom Brown he ord plice 
make tak' stan' ofif corn'! Don' know what goin' do! 
Son of gun! He ought get rope an' hang itself!" 



84 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

I told him I would see; took him in the store and 
got Mr. Btmde's permission to place his stand against 
the store, a few feet down from the corner, if John would 
keep an American flag on the stand. There have been 
few days when the flag was not there and John has voted 
the Republican ticket ever since. 



ROBBERS AND BURGLARS CAUGHT. 

About 2 o'clock one morning in March, 1885, there 
was a highway robbery on Michigan street, between 
Broadway and Milwaukee street. Three toughs held up 
a man named McLaughlin. The robbers were John 
Long, John Kirk and Henry Woods. Policeman David 
Harris, now a guard at Waupun, and John I. Murphy, 
were close after the robbers. I was near the front of the 
Bunde & Upmeyer store when the three fellows came up 
Jefferson street and crossed to the alley now by the 
Hotel Pfister and stepped back in the shade of a building. 
Harris and Murphy came up Wisconsin street in search 
of them. I pointed out their game and told them to 
stand where they were and I w^ould chase the robbers 
out. Crossing over by the postofhce I then crossed 
Milwaukee street and went through a hall, coming out 
on the alley a few rods north of the robbers. I got 
pretty close to them and ordered them to put up their 
hands. They all ran and I fired several shots over their 
heads. By the description I got of them Woods and 
Kirk were captured the next day. Long left the city and 
was never captured. A couple of years later he fell off 
a steamer in the Mississippi river and drowned. Kirk 
got a year and six months in the house of correction and 
Woods got two years in Waupun. 

About 2 o'clock in the morning, Dec. 13, 1875, D. 
C. Reed, then government boiler inspector, came up 
Jefferson street, turned down Wisconsin and met me in 
front of Stark Bros.' store. About two rods behind him 
came Pat Donahue, one of the toughest products of the 
Third ward. Mr. Reed stopped me and as Pat came up 
said: " 'Doc' this fellow has just robbed the Troy laun- 
dry. I saw him in there." 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 85 

I knew Pat was desperate and would shoot if neces- 
sary, so I made a play to take his part, remarking: "O, 
I know him. He wouldn't do such a thing as that." 

Mr. Reed insisted that he was right and he and Pat 
began arguing the case. As they became interested I 
tripped Pat's feet from under him, laid him on his back 
and dropped upon him. He reached for his revolver. 
[ caught his hands, asked Reed to hold one while I held 
the other and blew my whistle for the regular policeman, 
Michael O'Connor, now lieutenant of police. He w^as 
there in a minute and Pat went in. He got six months 
in the House of Correction. Four years ago he was 
found dead in a freight car in the C. M. & St. P. 
yard. 

One night in the fall of 1878 I discovered a fellow 
in the alley at the rear of the store now occupied by 
William Reckmeyer. I had forgotten my revolver, but 
had a big duplex whistle in my pocket. I pulled it upon 
him. He threw up his hands and I marched him out 
to the street, just then Michael Peck, the regular ofhcer, 
came along, identified my prisoner, gave him a certificate 
of good character and we discharged him. It was a false 
alarm, but it has ahvays been my policy to take no 
chances of letting a possible burglar escape. 



SOMETPHNG OF A STORM. 

During my twenty-five years out nights I have seen 
some storms. One night I was knocked down by light- 
ning in front of the Chapman store. I managed to get to 
the Windsor hotel. Ofificer Michael Peck happened to 
be there. He hastened some restoratives into me and 
went out to investigate. The lightning had struck a 
house just south of wdiere the Goldsmith building now 
stands and ran dow'n a lightning rod to the ground. A 
policeman w-as also knocked down by the shock a block 
farther away. 

That was a night w^hen the wind blew. There was 
an oak barrel in front of Dan. Jones' store. The wind 
blew the staves and hoops away, leaving only the bung- 
hole. Gray Bros, had just drilled an artesian w^ell at the 



86 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

Colby .& Abbott building. The wind blew that well out 
by the roots, turned it inside out and dropped it away 
up the river near the flushing tunnel. It took a week to 
get it back and drive it into its hole again. This story 
ought to be correct. It is just as I received it the next 
day. 



NIGHTS OFF DUTY. 

During my twenty-five years of service as special 
night police I can safely say I have not had twenty-five 
nights ofl duty, and those have generally been during 
Grand Army events, and a co^uple of other times. During 
one of the latter, I w^as helping entertain a friend who 
was attending a Masonic event. He is a Janesville busi- 
ness man. In 1862 he was a member of "Jeb." Stuart's 
black horse rebel cavalry and had the honor of capturing 
me and sending me off to Richmond to become ac- 
quainted with Libby prison. That night was spent dif- 
ferently from my nights in Libby prison. 

Another night off which I recall was the first one after 
McKinley's election to the presidency. As I came down 
for duty I saw trouble ahead. Mel. Sanford was begin- 
ning to receive returns by private wire. Operator Sam. 
lUers was at the ticking machine and John M. Ewing 
was already shouting in the enthusiastic flush of victory 
won. In the Pfister all were in high glee, with John M. 
in the lead. I put a substitute on my beat, put in the 
night with the other victors and finally went home about 
the same as the others did — ^full, of the satisfaction that 
prosperity had struck us. 



A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER. 

Away back in the olden time a stranger came to town 
and located on the second floor at 41() Milwaukee street. 
He wore a flashy tie ornamented with a silver quarter 
made into a pin with a picture of the sun engraved upon 
it. I frequently saw him standing in the hall door and 
was a trifle suspicious of him. At that time Col. E. A. 
Calkins was running a Sunday newspaper in that build- 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 87 

ing. One hot night I caught the facetious Colonel out 
barefooted gathering items for his paper and asked him 
who the stranger was. He repUed: 

*'0, he's all right. That's George Peck and he's go- 
ing to run a newspaper up there in a room next to mine." 

I believe I never told George how near I came to 
running him in on suspicion. 



SCARCITY OF FIRES AND CRIMES. 

Aside from the burning of the Chapman store there 
have been few fires of consequence on my beat in twenty- 
five years. During Chief Foley's long reign at the head 
of the fire department he has given me many valuable 
pointers on watching for fires, always insisting that any 
number of false alarms, when there was probability of a 
fire, were preferable to even brief delay in time of dan- 
ger. His constant vigilance, in that respect has been a 
blessing to the city. 

In this connection I am surely justified in referring to 
the persistent efforts of Chief of Police Janssen in main- 
taining order. He has never once failed to give me en- 
couragement and assistance when needed. I could re- 
late many instances in which his foresignt and wise di- 
rection have undoubtedly averted the perpetration of 
crime, and there are doubtless many more night watch- 
men in the city who could give similar testimonials to 
his efficiencv. 



LANDMARKS SPARED BY TIME. 

Time has wrought its changes rapidly durmg twenty- 
five years. Hundreds of the olden-time familiar faces have 
passed awav. Yet some remain. The largest group 
now to be found in one establishment on my beat, who 
were there twenty-five years ago, are in the Chapman 
store, where they have grown up and soiiie of them have 
grown gray in the service. Those who have passed the 
entire quarter of a century there and are still on dutv 
are Manager P. R. Hannifin, J. A. Seger. Harrv C. 



88 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

Barber, B. V. Seger, John MuUer, Hugo Bohn, A. Arn- 
stein, W. H. Grossman, Miss Lottie Davis, Augustus 
Chapman, B. Koepke, Matt. Wagner, Martin Muer, G. 
C. Murphy and Harry Lawrence, and "Billy" Omisby, 
many years a favorite with Mr. Ghapman, is still in the 
service of the Ghapman family. 

At Herman Heyn's store there is but one of the old 
time attaches, a young lady who modestly requests me 
not to print her name. Louis W. Bunde, of Bunde & 
Upmeyer, was a cash boy in the Ghapman store; so was 
that firm's optician, Henry Waldic. Otto Zedler, also 
now with Bunde & Upmeyer, was with the old time firm 
of Stanley & Gamp. Mr. Keogh, of Garroil & Keogh, 
was a clerk in the T. A. Ghapman store and Louis Tis- 
dale, secretary of the Stark Bros. Gompany, was Stark 
Bros.' bookkeeper then. 

One old-time friend I miss, but often recall one of his 
favorite expressions. He was Edward Stark. Parting one 
night, after a chat on the corner near the store, he said: 
"Well, 'Doc,' good night; keep a good lookout, for 

"When the iron tongue of Time 
Tolls the hour of midnight. 
How often we say 'Time flies,' 
When 'tis not time that flies, 
But we who are passing away." 

In tho<se days agone, Mark Tyson, who rode his 
mare up the full flight of stairs into the Newhall house 
bar-room, took a drink and treated the crowd on a hun- 
dred dollar bet, was among the active and conspicuous. 
William Sexton was among the leading boomers when 
there was sport in sight and G. W. Featherstonhaugh, 
now relegated into the shades of comparative obscurity, 
was a conspicuous figure. He was a member of the 
second constitutional convention, which adopted the 
State Gonstitution, and was credited with having written 
most of that document. Featherstonhaugh was one of 
the bright men of that period and capalole of saying as 
mean things as any. The latter faculty he retained well, 
as a couple of instances will illustrate. 

Some ten to fifteen years ago he was passing along 
Milwaukee street when a young man whose front name 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 89. 

was Byron was sitting on a bench in front of his father's 
place of business. As if to clear his throat he gave a 
couple of semi-coughs. Instantly Featherstonhaugh 
turned upon him with: 

"Young man, what do you mean, sir? You, sir, 
named after an illustrious poet and only the son of a 
botch painter, sir!" and the old man went his way. 

Not long after the great telegraph op<;rators' strike, 
along about 1885, Peter McGill was sitting in front of a 
hotel when Mr. Featherstonhaugh approached him and 
remarked: 

''Young man, you are a Scotchman, aren't you?" 

"I plead guilty to the charge, sir," said the gentle- 
manly Peter. 

'The Scotch are a sturdy race of strong and able 
men, sir. Do you happen to have a spare quarter about 



vou 



"I have, sir," said Peter, handing him the desired as- 
surance of two drinks. 

"But, sir, the dirty cusses are all lousy, have the itch, 
and the Duke of Argyle had a post set up on which to 
scratch his lousy back," was the old man's instant re- 
joinder as the quarter slipped into his hand, and he 
moved along. 

Among those seen regularly around my beat twenty- 
five years ago and who are still here are Judge H. L. 
Palmer, Judges Mallory and Jenkins, the venerable 
William E. Cramer, A. J. Aikens, the Vermont Yankee; 
Edward and John F". Cramer, Herman, Julius, Louis and 
Adolph Bleyer, all of the Evening Wisconsin; Henry and 
Albert Bleyer, of the Sentinel; Frank and William Bige- 
low, Charles Pfister, Drs. Leustrom, Mason, Carlson, 
Ladd, Marks, Wolcott and Bartlett; E. O. Ladd, B. M. 
Weil, Herman Heyn, C. J. and Joshua Stark, H. N. 
Hempsted, Rufus Ahen, George Eddy, A. G. Weissert, 
Louis Auer, Fred S. Ilsley, C. A. Higgins, Capt. C. J. 
Sackett, Senator John L. Mitchell, James Bryden, Alex- 
ander Cochran, Robert Eliot, E. P.'Bacon, W. J. Curtin. 
A. G. Rose, Edward Pyatt, now of Chicago; E. C. Wall. 
Charles Whitnall, John Johnston, Commodore W. H. 
Wolf, Gregorv Hurson, Frank L. A'ance, Albert Huegin. 



.go TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

M. P. Walsh, Ed. Keogh, John J. Crilly, L G. Mann, 
James Graham, James Bannen, Sr.; E. P., A. R. and Q. 
A. Matthews, I'eter Van Yechten, Henr}^ P'ink, H. C. 
Koch, Juhus Lasche, Col. Thomas Keer, Col. Jerome 
Johnson, W. C. Swain, Sam. Tate, A. G. Wright, Dan- 
iel Wells, Jr. ; Samuel Marshall, Charles Ilsley, Henry 
C. Payne, Henry Bracken, W. J. Denny, Herman A. 
Bierwald, Harry M. Allen, Charles Whitnall, John 
Campbell, A. J. W. Pierce, James Conroy, Joseph 
Lyon, Henry Fess, Pat. O'Brien, the Evening Wiscon- 
sin pressman during the last thousand years; George 
Phipps, Jonathan Magie, Allton Streeter, Sam. F. Pea- 
cock, Prof. A. G. Faville, A. W. Rich, Louis Silber, 
Charles Munkwitz, Col. Cornelius Wheeler, David Adler, 
Edgar W. Colman, Maj. Joseph Oliver, I. M. Lederer, 
Ed. Silverman, Hiram J. Mabbett, James Fowler, 
George Howard, Louis W. Bunde, William H. Upmeyer, 
Norman L. Burdick, Thomas H. Brown, Capt. Edward 
Ferguson, John S. George, Dr. Lytton Flinn, Peter 
Frattinger, D. H., Albert and Dr. S. H. Friend, Carl 
Landsee, Colin Campbell, Jabez Smith, Robert C. Spen- 
cer, Charles H. Saveland, Henry Riemers, John Roper, 
E. E. Chapin, Eugene S. Elliott, Edward Gray, Michael 
Dunn, Daniel Kennedy, Edward Sivyer, Edward Mc- 
Cann, Col. Florian J. Ries, W. T. Durand, Samuel R. 
Bell, Patsey Coin, James Hannan, John Hannan, Capt. 
A. B. Davis, Maj. A. Ross Houston, Joe and Arthur 
Gressing, F". M. Keats, William F. Zeltner, James W. 
Campbell and William H. Partridge, shoe dealers, Henry 
Reilly, George L Robinson, Charles and Frank Anson, 
Jonah Williams, E. P. Hackett, Thomas Ramsey, Charles 
W. Hamilton, A. K. Camp, Henry Ramsey, John Hinton, 
Ferdinand Pripps, who was janitor of the Evening Wis- 
consin building when the famous spring in the basement 
was conspicuous; and an old time drug clerk known as 
^Trof. Parbelow." And I suppose a lot more of names 
will come to me when this is in print and make me mad 
at myself for not having mentioned them. 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 91 

DAN SHEHAN'S EXPERIENCES. 

Dan Shehan lived in the Third ward. He was then 
roundsman on the poHce force, ex-patrohnan, ex-detec- 
tive and an all around politician, either Republican or 
Democrat, according to the crowd he was with. Dan 
never drank but was an inveterate smoker. A friend 
once asked him to take a drink. 

"No, Oi'U not drink, but Oi'll take a cigar," said Dan. 

"Yes, give Dan a good ten cent cigar," said his 
friend. 

"Oi'U not take a tin cinter, but Oi'll take two foives," 
said Dan. 

One day, when on the force, Dan was sent out on the 
West side to investigate a reported burglary. Entering 
the house, with hat in hand, in response to an invitation 
by the lady of the house, to come in, this conversation 
followed : 

Dan.— "Is this Mrs. S ?" 

Mrs. S. — "Yes, sir; what do you want? 

Dan. — "Sure, mem, Oi was sint here by the chafe to 
ax yez was it at the front or rare door av yer house that 
the burglars intered." 

Mrs. S. — "It was neither, sir. It appears that the 
burglar came in and went out again through a side 
window." 

Dan. — "Sure, mem, if that be the case I do be thinkin' 
he was a shlippery chap an' it will be afther takin' the 
whole foorce to bag him, begorry." 

One time Dan's beat was in the Seventh ward. He 
was anxious to know how the people on the beat es- 
teemed him and meeting a little girl he accosted her: 

"Shay, sissy, did yez iver be hearin' yer mother sayin' 
ony thing about me?" 

"Yes, she says you are a nigeramus," was the little 
one's prompt reply. 

That afternoon T met Dan, and in a semi-confidential 
tone he said: 

"Misther AhJ^ry, wud yez moind tellin' nic ])hat's the 
manin' av the worrud 'nigeramus?' " 

"That's a man born just as other men are, but pos- 
sessed of superior qualifications in one way or another 



92 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

which the more they are cultivated the more conspicuous 
they become," said I. 

"Thank ye surr," said Dan, "Oi raleized thot it wuz 
a terrum ixprissin' and bortherin' on some degra av 
supariority. Wud yez coom over and take a segair wid 
me?" 

Alderman Shaughnessy once perpetrated a joke on 
Dan. The alderman attended a meeting at the bishop's 
hall. It was a very rainy night. One of Dan's daughter's 
was at the meeting. It was at the time Dan was rounds- 
man. On account of the rain the alderman offered to 
escort Dan's daughter home with the protection of his 
umbrella. Arriving at the house he looked through the 
window and saw Dan stretched upon the lounge asleep, 
instead of being out looking after the men in his charge. 
As he parted from the young woman he said: 

''Should any one ask who escorted you home say it 
was Henry Miles." 

Miles was a patrolman on a beat in the Seventh 
ward, and the alderman had a suspicion Dan would ques- 
tion the daughter as to her escort. 

''Daughter, who kem home wid yez?" asked Dan. 

"It was Henry Miles, father," said she. 

"Arrah! It was, eh?" said Dan as he climbed off the 
lounge and slid his arms down through his suspenders. 
"Begobs, Oi'll be seein' about thot," and he got into his 
coat, hoisted an umbrella and shot into the darkness and 
the down pour of sky juice. 

After a hunt of an hour he found Miles pacing his 
beat with the faithfulness of a veteran before the gates 
of a doomed city. 

"Where wuz yez, Henry Miles, at 11:30 o'clock?" de- 
manded Dan. 

"After a moment's thought Miles replied: 

"At the Court House park, sir." 

"Indade ve wur not, Henry Miles. Let yez be 
moindin' yer bate now till morning. Sure Oi do be 
knowin' where yez wuz and the chafe'll know^ it in the 
mornin'." 

The alderman took occasion to put the chief onto 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 93 

the job before Dan got around in the morning, and when 
Dan came around the chief said to him : 

''Mr. Shehan, where were you about 11:30 o'clock 
last night?" 

"Sure, sir," said Dan, "Oi think that wuz about the 
toime I wuz on Henry Mileses bate in the Siventh ward." 

"Yes, but about half an hour before you were up to 
see Henry?" said the chief. 

"O, yis, Oi see, dhat was whin Oi wint down till the 
house to lave ofY me wit clothes and put on some dry 
ones," said Dan. 

"All right, Mr. Shehan, keep an eye to your men 
during the night," said the chief, and Dan never knew 
how the game was played upon him. 



A TRAMP PRINTER'S STORY. 

About 2 o'clock one summer morning back in 1875, 
a genius, ripe in years, abundant in experience, thor- 
oughly schooled in that wisdom which comes through 
observation, and, apparently, an all around philosopher, 
came my way. He came leisurely up the street, as one 
weary from long journeying in the good, old, natural 
way. That was a year during which the country seemed 
alive with tramp printers, as a rule, men who would do 
no harm, being generally possessed of that reasonable 
order of good sense and reason which sits side by side 
on the throne with fair education. In short, men who 
know somthing and think. It was my experience that 
at least nine of every ten tramp printers would ask for 
work the first thing they did. However hungry or tired 
they might be, they were possessed of an ambition to 
earn the needs of life. Of course there were exceptions 
to this rule, but they were rare. A tramp-printer usually 
spent his own money, whether it was for l)read or for 
booze. 

As my genius approached T spotted him for one of 
the craft and accosted him with: 

"Good morning." 

"Good morning, sir; and a nice, balmy morning it 
is, too; a morning worth living in and the kind which. 



94 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

as a rule, sir, only God's unfortunates have opportunity 
to participate in the glories of." 

"Gee whiz," said 1 to myself as he rattled ofT his brief 
oration, "here's a corker. Guess I'll pump him a little; 
may get something good. 'Where goin'?" 

"That is just the piece or informatiou I am seeking, 
sir," said he, "and I'll be greatly obliged to you for it. 
My ambition at this moment is to get into a good bed 
for the space of about four hours, but as I know that 
is not only the unexpected, which is not likely to happen 
just now, but also practically the impossible, I'll be 
greatly obliged if you will tell me where I can be per- 
mitted to lie down on a board and rest secure until the 
regular working hour, when I hope to find a few hours^ 
work in some one of the daily newspaper offices, enough 
at least to earn a bite of breakfast." 

"Owl right," said I, "I'll show you where," and as 
we started towards the station where he would merely be 
booked as a lodger and given the best opportunity that 
place offered for the desired rest, I asked: 

"Where d'ye live?" 

"Kind sir," said he, "you mistake me. I don't hap- 
pen to be one of those favored mortals who live, except 
in a figurative sense. As the poet has said : 

" 'Here in this body spent 

I stay and strive and roam 
And nia^htly pitch my moving tent 
A day's march nearer home.' " 

There was an all night restaurant on our route and 
I walked the old fellow into it, motioned him to a chair 
and sat down opposite him at the table, remarking to the 
clerk "Two coffees, sandwiches and a pie." 

My genius looked puzzled for a moment, then arose 
and looking me straight in the eye said: 

"If it is all the same to you, my friend, I will wait 
while you take your lunch, but, to tell you the truth, 
I haven't the price, and it is a rule with me to earn be- 
fore I eat." 

"Now, see here, my Covey," said I, showing my star, 
"you are in my hands and, 'by the great Jehovah and the 
Continental Congress,' vou've no right to decline to be 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 95, 

my guest. You're going to eat a bite, and I'll bet on it." 

"If you really insist upon it," said he, "but it is 
against my principle to eat before I earn." 

I insisted and he held the chair down again. 

*'That Ethan Allen quotation sounded familiar to 
me, sir," said he, "I've heard my grandfather make use 
of it many times. He was in company with the old pa- 
triot when he made the remark and carried his point in 
the cause of liberty and freedom of conscience." 

. "You've had a lot of experience in your time," I sug- 
gested. 

*'Yes, some, sir;" said he. **I have seen considerable, 
tried to observe pretty carefully and form my own con- 
cl^isions. I have seen much to admire and some to ab- 
hor. This is called a strange world, sir, but it is not, as 
I view it. The world is all right. There is a divine and 
gracious arrangement of all things in it, as the good 
Lord designed them, and some queer people, besides, 
sir. By the way, sir, I venture to say you are not much 
of a church man." 

I had a suspicion that the old fellow had a store of 
good things in his head, if 1 could get him to unwind- 
ing. He ate like a thorough gentleman of culture and 
I was studying a way to touch a key that would set him 
going more freely. I ordered second cups of cofifee and 
rather demurely confessed that I was not over active in 
the matter of church going, and that perhaps I ought to 
be more attentive to matters of religion, and asked why 
he formed the conclusion just expressed. That query 
proved the hit I was looking for. His face brightened 
and clouded alternately during fully half a minute before 
he spoke, then he leaned back in the chair and said: 

"Because, sir, I discovered that you gave more 
thought to feeding the hungry at your side than to con- 
verting the heathen thousands of miles away. I venture 
the further assertion, sir, that you would not contribute a 
nickel for the heathen of India or Africa or any other 
foreign land, so long as there was want in your own land. 
And I believe that principle involves the true spirit of re- 
ligion. I am not wholly an unbeliever, sir. I believe 
in God and the Saviour, but I take no stock in modern 



.96 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

practices called religion. Wh}^ sir, this very year mission- 
ary organizations in this country have sent thousands of 
dollars to the heathen in far ofif countries, while thousands 
of people are starving in the great cities of our own coun- 
try. They hold missionary meeting in palatial meeting 
houses, whose spires pierce the clouds with golden tipped 
fingers, and beg contributions for the heathen, with the 
poor, almost naked and starving at their very doors. 
They array themselves in silks and do their devotions 
in cushioned pews, before high salaried priests, and the 
burden of their prayers is for the salvation of the heathen 
who would steal the throne of heaven if they were in 
there and could get away with it. They give no thought 
to the sufifering at home, but burden their poor so^ils 
with anguish over supposed misery thousands of miles 
beyond their sight. As I said before, I am a believer 
in religion, sir, but not in the kind much in practice. It 
don't seem to me much like the Saviour, who preached 
the gospel of humanity to the multitudes on the streets, 
broke bread with the poorest of the poor and was with- 
out a place to lay his head at night." 

We had finished the lunch and I accompanied the 
•old man to the station, fixed him the best bunk possible 
and told him to go in the morning to a certain printing 
office and ask for the foreman whose name I gave him 
'On a slip of paper. Then I went my round, went to the 
office T had named, unlocked the door, went in and left 
a sealed note on Foreman George Eddy's desk. The 
old man got steady work for nearly two months. He 
was a superior workman for those times and when he 
left town he did not have to walk or 2^0 hungrv. 



THE OLD, OLD SAFE. 
One evening in the spring of 1883, George Cooley, 
now dead, George Eddy and myself, during a half hour 
chat in front of the Chapman store, conceived the idea 
of raising a fund for a Soldiers' monument. Out of it 
grew the vSoldiers' Monument association, of which I am 
a member. The same summer the old safe which stood 
imtil recently in front of the postoffice, as a contribution 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 97 

box for the nionuineiit fund, was given to me for that 
purpose by A. D. Seaman, and hauled and placed in 
position by Deacon Edwin Hyde. It had been through 
three fires and was of little value. The key was placed 
in the hands of Frank G. Bigelow and the safe was oc- 
casionally opened, its contents taken out and credited to 
the fund. A few months ago I broke it open, oine morn- 
ing just at daylight, and robbed it, getting $12.19, which 
1 shall turn over to the original monument fund. The 
newspapers made a sensation of the robbery. The safe 
was artistically painted by Jonah Williams, when first 
placed in position, but it finally became rusty and is now 
in a scrap iron pile. 



IN THE WRONG LODGE. 

One of the worst frightened men I have met 011 my 
beat in twenty-five years was F. C. Wieben, a barber up 
in the First ward. Not very long ago he came down 
town on a wrong night to attend a meeting of the Bar- 
ber's union. He went to the customary hall, gave the 
raps and password and was admitted. Imagine his sur- 
prise at finding himself surounded by such men as Peter 
Van \'echten, Louis Lachman, Capt. Norton, Samuel 
Harper and others of that set. He knew they were not 
barbers, and was not long in discovering that he had 
gotten into a meeting of the Patriarchial Circle. With 
awe striking solemnity he was surrounded by dignitaries 
of that order and was led to believe a most horrible fate 
was the penalty oif his intrusion. When permitted to 
escape with his life he promptly came to me and begged 
to be guarded to his home lest the infuriated Patriarchs 
should follow and waylay him. He will not mistake the 
night of the barbers' meetinq- aoain in a hurrv. 



SOME OLD-TIME FIRMS. 

Among good fellow\s who engaged in 1)usiness on my 

beat, in my early days as watchman, are (icorge and 

Arthur Wright, in the drug store they still occupy at the 

post ofifice alley. Among their early employes who are 



98 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

Still with them were Sol. Eckstein, Ned Krauskopf and 
Harry Pierce, all royal good fellows and widely known. 
All have served their time as night watch sleeping in the 
store, though none of them ever liked the job, especially 
in the earlier years, because of the presence of so many 
cats around the alley back of the Leigh house, and the 
horseless wagons at the post ofhce, which were con- 
stant sources of annoyance. 

This reliable old drug house has graduated some good 
druggists, among them Thomas Ladd, of the drug firm 
of Ladd & Janssen, at the corner of Wisconsin and Mil- 
waukee streets, and Daniel Jones, in business for himself 
a few doors farther up Milwaukee street. 

Another old time firm is the T. S. Gray Company, the 
popular book store firm, nearly all of the years in their 
present quarters. 

Then there is the firm of Campbell & Partridge, 
shoe dealers, nearly a quarter of a century in business oix 
Wisconsin street. 

Hennan Heyn is, I believe, the only other one in 
business in the immediate vicinity who was there even 
twenty years ago. 



A HARDY HIGHLANDER. 

About eight years agO' a company of Scotchmen were 
up froim Chicago to attend the St. Andrew's society pic- 
nic. After the fun of the day and night they went to 
the Windsor hotel and were given rooms on the third 
floor. Durinp- the night one fellow in the party by the 
name of Cameron got to fooling around the open win- 
dow and fell out. He went down through a skylight, 
the glass of which was an inch in thickness and landed 
on a broad shelf in the Evening Wisconsin job printing 
room. After a long hunt I found him there, mutilated, 
bleeded and groaning. The patrol wagon was called and 
took him to the police station where a botch surgeon 
plastered up his wounds. Early in the morning the re- 
port went out that Cameron had been killed. Peter 
McGill was secretary of the society and he, with other 
Scotchmen hastened to the hotel to viev^ the remains.. 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 99 

But Gameron refused tO' remain dead. Well done up 
in co'Urt plaster he was down at the Chamber of Com- 
merce seeing the sights. He has attended the annual 
picnic every year since and says he will keep training 
and coming until he can jump back up w^here he fell 
down. 



THE NEWHALL FIRE. 

I have omitted saying anything about the burning 
of the Newhall house, on the morning of Jan. 10, 1883. 
1 do not want to say anything about it now. It is not 
pleasant to turn to that page of memory, no trace upon 
which can bring aught but sorrow. May or June, with 
all the forces of nature full of life, and promise, and 
beauty, are pleasanter than December, in this rigid, 
northern climate, with all the beauties of nature in the 
cold clasp of winter's death and dreariness. 

I would rather devote a whole book to thoughts and 
events which would produce none other than pleasant 
thoughts and cheerful memories than one line to that 
which could yield only saddened thoughts and awaken 
only bitter memories. 

I have seen the horrors of rebel prison pen, the carn- 
age of battle with its awful destruction of human life and 
the devastation following in its wake, but they form no 
basis for comparison with the horrors resulting from that 
fire, with its twenty-eight identified and thirty-six un- 
identified dead. I could record pages of incidents con- 
nected with the event, but they would serve only to 
awaken sad memories. I mention it only that the date 
may be again recorded and as one of the events happen- 
ing during my twenty-five years as night watchman on 
the streets of Milwaukee. 



WALKING AROUND A BLOCK. 

Not very long ago a young blood of the Seventh 
ward, whom I will call Charley, because that is what 
his parents call him, came around on my beat pretty late 
in the night, with an immense load on. I tried to in- 



100 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

diice him to go to a hotel and go to bed, urging him not 
to go home with that jag. He flatly refused to go to 
bed. Then I urged him to walk around a block a few 
times and wear it off. He agreed to that and started. 
He Avas as good as his word and reported to me at every 
round, though he occasionally dropped off to inquire 
when "Mel." Sanford's next quarterly birthday was due. 
Daylight found him still tramping around that block. 
Then he said he had been around the block three times 
and w^as sober enough to go home. As a matter of fact 
he had been around the block just forty-tw^o times. 



NEWSBOY Ix\ THE ARMW 

A friend of mine said to me: " 'Doc/ I hear you are 
writing a book." 

"Yes, trying to," said T 

"Well, don't forget to give us a touch of your experi- 
ences as newsboy in the army," said he. And he exacted 
a promise to that effect. 

I wish I had not made that promise. If I had fully 
realized that to fulfill it I would have to write about my- 
self and my own doings, I would not have made it, and 
will now only say enough to redeem it. 

Wlieii President Lincoln called for volunteers to help 
put down the rebellion, in the spring: of 1861, my four 
brothers enlisted. I was a barefooted lad thirteen years 
old. They entered the Second Vermont regiment which 
left Burlington, Vt, for the front, June 24, 1861. As the 
train bearing the regiment away was moving out of .the 
old Burlington depot, I jumped on and kept out of sight 
of my brothers until we reached New York. Then they 
discovered me and telegraphed mother that I was with 
them and all right. An uncle supplied me with shoes and 
some clothing, and I reached Washington with the regi- 
ment. While in camp there I worked for Lieut. C. K. 
Leach, taking care of his quarters, earning two dollars 
a week. When the regiment went to the front I went 
with it, doing all kinds of jobs for the boys and finally 
went to selling newspapers. In due time I got a horse 
w^ith which to go to the base of supplies for my news- 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



lOI 



papers. After the first battle of Bull Run the army was 
camped at Arlington Heights for the winter. Then I 
launched out into the newspaper business. I discovered 
that the Wisconsin men were extensive readers of news- 
papers and nourished their acquaintance. I stuck by 
McClellan's army during the campaign of 1862 and kept 
up the newspaper business. Nov. 10, 18()2, I left camp 
for Washington to get my supply of papers. It was 
thirty-one miles to Washington and "Jeb." Stuart's black 
horse rebel cavalry was making things interesting in that 
region of country. I got my supplies and left Washing- 




^Oc/\vhery 



/VyitW^UKEE WIS 






/ / 



( As Newsboy in the Army. 

ton in the morning of Nov. 11. During my a1)sence the 
army started on the move. About noon, Nov. 12, I was 
leaving New Baltimore, supposing I would soon be 
within the Union lines. But, instead I was soon a pris- 
oner of war and the rebels confiscated my horse and sup- 
plies. One of my first acquaintances while a prisoner 
was Horace Baker, of the Twelfth Massachusetts regi- 
ment, also a prisoner. Next day we, with about fifty 
other prisoners were marched to Gordonsville where 
we were placed in freight cars, shipped to Rich- 
mond and placed in Libb\- prison. Sunday morn- 



I02 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

ing, Dec. 12, I, with a lot more, was paroled and sent 
to City Point, then to Annapolis where the soldiers went 
into camp and I was told I could go where I pleased. 

I had $380 in greenbacks, which Maj. Thomas P. 
Turner, keeper of Libby prison, had taken care of during 
my imprisonment and returned to me when I left. I 
took the first train for Washington, got myself cleaned 




Filling Canteens for the Boys. 

Up, learned that the Iron Brigade was at Belleplain Land- 
ing, got a supply of papers and started for that point. I 
was welcomed back and went at once to selling papers 
again. I stuck to the Iron Brigade to the finish, was 
with it in all of its campaigning and supplied it with news- 
papers to the best of my ability. I was in Washington 
after papers when the war closed, was in Ford's theatre 
when President Lincoln was assassinated, came to Wis- 
consin in the wake of its Iron Brigade regiments, have 
been here ever since and here I am now. I could fill 
several such books as this with incidents of the war and 
the Iron Brigade, but this is not a war history. 

I was invited to attend the monument dedication at 
Gettysburg, and there met many I had known in the 
army. On a trip south recently I met the men who cap- 
tured me, and we became warm friends. My best pleas- 
ure is in attending reunions of the Iron Brigade and 
living war time days over again. 



A friend of mine once said it would be impossible for 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 103 

nie to write a column or talk half an hour without refer- 
ring to the war. I guess that is so, but I have tried to 
avoid my weakness in this book. Yet out of my collec- 
tion of war relics I want to give one short paper, because 
it will be of interest to Wisconsin veterans. The paper 




! Libby Prison. 

was given me by a friend, to add to my collection, under 
promise that I would not print a long list of names which 
he said were those of officers and men who ran away 
from the battle at Antietam. Here is the letter: 

"Headquarters, Fort Terrell, Mumfordsville, Ky., 

Nov. 28, 1863. 
*'Maj.-Gen. U. S. Grant, Commanding Department of 
the Alississippi. 

"Dear Sir: — I respectfully request a position on your 
stafT as aid de camp. To desire to be connected with a 
man so distinguished as yourself is not only natural but 
patriotic. I send no recommendations, as I have enough 
on file in the department of the Cumberland. My superior 
officers here are strangers to me and I have my own pri- 
vate reasons for the request. My military experience is 
limited to Perryville ancl Stone River and the example of 
the illustrious and the honorable dead. Lieut. -Col. S. W. 

B , of the Eighteenth Wisconsin, formerly and now of 

the Veteran Reserve Corps, is my mother's father. The 
appointment would be a particular favor to him. I have 
the honor, General, to refer you to Gen. C. S. Stark- 
weather, Col. G. Bingham or any Wisconsin officers 



104 



TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 



who know me. I have the honor to be, General, very 
respectfully, your obedient servant, etc., etc., etc. 

On the reverse side of the letter is the following: 
*'Hd. Qrs. Mil. Div. Miss., In the Field, Chattanoog-a, 
Tenn., Dec. 11th, 1863. Respectfully returned. There 
is no vacancy at present on the stafT of the general com- 
manding. "Bv order of Maj.-Gen. Grant, 

"Geo. K. Leet, A. A. G." 

Ridiculous as this may seem, it is a true copy of the 
letter in my possession, minus names. The writer of the 
letter was probably as much entitled to the position he 
sought as I am to consideration as a Union veteran, yet 
when the governor of the great state of Vermont says, 
"Give my compliments to 'Doc' Aubery, who was a Ver- 
mont soldier," that settles it and my chance for a pension 
is all right. 




!Before and After My Stay in Libby Prison. 



ONE ON A FlSHERxMAN. 

One good fellow, now dead, was a favorite with all 
night men. His long suit was fishing. He used to go 
with "the boys" out to Pewaukee lake Sundays and, 
whether the others caueht any fish or not he would come 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 



10 = 



back in the evening and slip up a side street with a nice 
string of bass, always managing to let some reporter see 
him. 

Next day after one of his trips a letter came for him 




from an old fisherman at Pewaukee, and there was a bill 
in the letter — for fish, of course. Then his snap was out.. 
In some way a reporter got on to the matter and the 
whole game was published. Of course the exposure was 
laid to" "that dam 'Doc'," and the fisherman and his 
friends swore to get even with me. 

They fitted up a dummy at a rear window of a store _ 



I06 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

which had every appearance of a burglar just going to 
•enter the store. 1 watched the proceeding from the 
corner of another building and overheard the chuckling 
over the anticipated fun they were to have when I would 
begin to shoot and yell for police. When the thing was 
all fixed they went around the corner to see a man and 
get into another back room where they could hear the 
fun when trouble would begin. 

As they moved away I stole up, cut the string, carried 
the dummy away and put it in the Evening Wisconsin en- 
gine room. Next morning it was hanging at a prom- 
inent corner and labeled, *'A Pewaukee Fisherman." 



PLEASANT TO REMEMBER. 

• I shall not soon forget my first meeting with Capt. 
Charles King, at Chain Bridge, Va. It was a pleasant 
meeting, just such as thousands of other persons have 
had with him in the army and elsewhere. It is always 
a pleasure to meet such broad-minded, thorough gentle- 
men as he is. 



SOME BOOK BINDERY LIES. 

A few years ago I had some volumes of magazines 
I wanted bound and took them down to one of the 
binderies. The manager said I could get them in about 
two weeks. I went back at the end of a month as my 
wife was anxious for the books. They were not ready 
but I was told they were in the hands of the stitchers and 
would be finished in a week. 

Looking over in a corner I saw my bundle of maga- 
zines with my name on the package. 

"Are you quite sure my magazines are being 
stitched?" I asked. 

*'Yes, dead sure," was the reply. 'T carried the 
bundle to the girls myself one day last week and told 
them to hurry them up." 

''Guess you must be mistaken," said I, "for that stack 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 107 

•over there in the corner looks very much hke mine." 

He looked at it, saw he was caught, flushed a little 
and said: 

*'No, that's not yours; those belong to 'Doc.' Auberv. 
He just brought them in a few days ago." 

"That is just what I thought," said I, "only it was a 
month ago that I brought the bundle here." 

"What! Are you Aubery?" said the skillful prevari- 
cator. "I thougnt you were Hexamer. Then it is Hexa- 
mer's job I am rushing through. Well, I'll get right at 
yours this afternoon." 

It ran on about six months and I hadn't got my books 
yet, but had considerable fun over that bookbinder's ex- 
planations of the delay, well knowing he was handHng a 
decidedly elastic kind of truth. During the time I dis- 
covered that other persons were also meeting with dis- 
appointments of the same kind and learned from some of 
the workmen in the bindery that magazine binding suf- 
fered constant delay because of the rush of new work 
for important business houses, of which the bindery had 
a large run. But I got handsomely avenged. 

One day a couple of weeks before Christmas I went to 
the bindery to see how my work was progressing when in 
came a bright eyed young woman who, stepping up to 
the boss, said: 

"Mr. , when is that book of mine going to be 

bound? I am very anxious to have it done for a Christ- 
mas present to my mother." 

"It will be done day after to-morrow, sure," said he. 
*Tt is all bound and in the drying press now. I'll send it 
lip to the house da\- after to-morrow, without fail." 

"Now, you are quite sure you will not disappoint 
me tnis time?" queried the fair visitor. 

"(), dead sure. Bet your life on it. If it were really 
necessary I could send it up to-morrow, but it will be 
better to dry a day longer." 

"Now. look here, Mr. ." said she, "I haven't 

any book here to 1)e bound, nor did I ever have one 
here. T just wanted to see how l)ig a string of them you 
could tell at a sino-le sitting.'' 

She then left the binderv. T did likewise, but I never 



108 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

knew whether the l^oss of that shop suspected anybody 
of setting up that job on him. 



OYSTERS AND THEIR HABITS. 

Here is one which isn't entirely new. Like some 
other things, it has been used a Httle, but it is just as 
good as new, for it has never before been told correctly. 
The idea, or maybe, the fact in it has been printed a 
couple or two times, to suit different occasions. But it 
actually happened in Milwaukee. 

There was a house wdthin a short stone's throw of 
the site of the new government building. After having 
long served the purpose of a residence it w-as used as a 
club house before it went up into the eighteenth ward 
on wheelbarrow^s propelled by Polish women. 

One Thanksgiving night the club then occupying it 
had a banquet. A prominent caterer supplied the feast 
wdiich included a long list of good thmgs, besides a large 
bucket of raw oysters. The bivalves were generously 
partaken of by all the party except one, a scientist and 
analytical chemist, w^ho persistently declined them. Every 
one w^anted to know^ w^hy he w'ouldn't eat oysters and he 
promised to tell tnem later on. 

As quite a number of my employers were participants 
at the feast, a colored waiter was sent out to hunt me up 
and bid me come and eat and drink. I promised to call 
in later, after the drug stores were closed up, and about 
midnight ushered myself in. There was yet an abun- 
dance of solid food and the liquid was going around 
pretty freely. I was seated near the chemist, who w^as 
my personal friend, and a waiter brought me a big plate 
of raw^ oysters. The chemist gave me a sharp look and 
shook his head. I declined the oysters and proceeded to 
avenge myself on roast turkey, sandw^iches and a couple 
of tanks of liquid. It appeared that I was filling up 
according to the identical program follow^ed bv the chem- 
ist, at wdiich some one remarked: 

'There is another crank on oysters." 

Then the whole party demanded the chemist's ex- 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK 109 

planation of why he refused to eat oysters, and they got 
it. He said: 

"Gentlemen, if you had anahzed as many oysters as 
I have, and understood what the anaivses tell, you would 
do exactly as 'Doc' and I do regarding them. As 
sporadic fungi is the lowest order of life in the dry, so 
is an oyster a representative of the lowest order of 
animal life in water. Not only is it of the lowest order of 
animal life, but it is the lurking place of countless mil- 
lions of the vilest of disease germs and water fungi, the 
sole purpose of which is to breed disease and destroy 
human life. 

"The oyster lives upon the filthiest slime to be found 
on the bed of the ocean and flourishes best where the 
ocean currents are saturated with the sewage of cities. 
It feasts upon the effluvia that comes from passing ships 
and offal poured into the ocean by rivers. All of the 
slimy stuff upon which they live and fatten is thoroughly 
saturated with the germs of diseases of the worst kind 
and many fatal cases have been traced directly to the 
oyster. 

"The oyster is a thoroughly complex organism, and 
possesses most of the functions of the animal body, and 
the microscope reveals that fact. It has intestines, heart, 
liver, etc., and the liver is about the largest part of it, 
which is a necessity due to the filthy character of its food 
and for the destruction of the poison it contains. Its 
stomach is filled with everything vile that is to be found 
on the bed of the ocean and, under the microscope is 
shown to contain thousands of disease germs of the most 
deadly order. If I had to eat oysters, especially raw 
ones, I would want my stomach to be a tank of the 
strongest whiskey to destroy some of those deadly germs. 

"There are many other points about the oyster which 
I can explain if you want them, but these are enough to 
let you know why I don't eat oysters." 

And it was enough for that crowd, half of whom were 
already out in the yard practicing saying "New Yawk" 
with their mouths open and a telephone order had been 
sent out for two gallons of old rye whiskey. Oysters 



I lo TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

were not on the bill of the next banquet held by that 
club. 



WHEN THE GOAT GOT OUT. 

It is twenty years or more ago that a lot of Milwaukee 
society people came in contact with a secret society goat,, 
a genuine live Mr. William Goat, in full possession of 
his faculties to bound around and make things lively. 
Excelsior lodge No. 20, I. O. O. P\, had a custom then of 
holding a dance every few weeks in the winter, which 
w^as always well attended, not only by members of the or- 
der and their families, but by their friends as well. Nat- 
urally the women had some curiosity as tO' the proverbial 
goat which the members Avere supposed to have ridden 
into the order. Among the pretty active members of the 
organization were Thomas Ward Taylor, now dead; 
Peter Van Vechten, Edward Sivyer, Thomas H. Brown, 
and others always as ready for a joke as I was. The 
women often asked Mr. Taylor to show them the goat, 
and he always referred them to me as the right worthy 
grand goat keeper. The requests came so frequently that 
I finally decided to show them the animal. At that time 
Capt. Pabst was the owner of a Billy goat. I went to 
him and borrowed the "critter" for the occasion one 
afternoon when a dance was to be given in ihe evening.. 
I took the goat into a room adjoining the dance hall 
and decked him with red, white and blue rosetts and rib- 
bons in fine style. I put the musicians unto the game 
so that when the goat would break out the music would 
stop short. Along about 11 o'clock when all was mov- 
ing nicely and the room was a maze of dancers, I put a 
drop of turpentine in the goat's ear, opened the door and 
he went out among the dancers at a terrific gait, bound- 
ing around and bleating vociferously. 'Ye-e-e-p" went 
the music. Women screamed. Several fainted. Others 
climbed upon chairs and oh, ohd. Mr. Taylor rapped 
with the gavel for order. Half a dozen seized the goat 
and hustled him back into the room. With marked 
solemnity Mr. Taylor assured the guests of the lodge 
that what they had seen had never before been revealed 



OF MILWAUKEE AFTER DARK in 

to any mortal outside of the membership of the order and 
expressed his confidence that no one of them would ever 
mention the fact to any persou. There were numerous 
instances of women guests of the lodge commenting 
upon the enjoyableness of that occasion but none of the 
members ever heard of them revealing the secret of hav- 
ing seen the goat. 

HOW I CURED A GOSSIP. 
At oiie time there was a professional he gossip living, 
near my beat who used to try to borrow my ear to pour 
gossip into very often. He would come with stories 
of this or that man being mixed up in affairs with women. 
The proceeding became tiresome and, one night I 
turned upon him with the old gag about the woman in 
Ohio who got immensely rich by attending to her own 
business. That cured Mr. C. and he gave me no more 
trouble. 

A BAD, BALKY MULE. 

One summer an old fellow had an electric battery on 
the sidewalk at the corner across Milwaukee street from 
the Chapman store. It was the first of the kind in town,, 
and being a new novelty a good many persons stopped 
to get a shock and see how much of the current they 
could stand. There was usually a crowd around it and 
occasionally some fellow who had done some boasting 
got a crack that made him squirm, much to the delight 
of the spectators. 

One afternoon an Irishman who lived out in the town 
of Milwaukee had been down to a Third ward vinegar 
factory with a big mule hitched to a dump cart 
with a large barrel in it, and got the barrel full of slops 
for his stock. Coming up the grade approaching Wis- 
consin street, the mule balked and positively refused all 
persuasion to move on. Many suggestions were offered 
bv the crowd and tried, without effect. Einally some 
one suggested that the battery be turned upon him. As 
it was being carried into the street the mule winked the 
other eye and flopped his larboard ear, as if to shoo a 



112 TWENTY-FIVE YEARS ON THE STREETS 

fly from it. vSome one brought a piece of wire about 
ten feet long, touched it to the battery and drew it along 
the side of that mule, the owner of the battery turning 
on the full current. A streak of blue flame shot along the 
mule's side, snapping like a bunch of fire-crackers. 

That mule seemed to grow right up into the air about 
ten feet and with a bound he crossed Wisconsin street, 
the barrel of slops going out and bursting in the centre 
of the street, while mule and cart went north on Milwau- 
kee street at about a 1 :10 gait. The crowd yelled like a 
thousand bleachers at a baseball game. 

GOLD COIN STOLEN. 

Some years ago an insurance company placed $150 
in gold coin in Bunde & Upmeyer's window to be given 
to school children. I told them it was not safe to leave 
the money there nights, but the warning was unheeded. 
One morning after I went ofif duty George Tillema saw 
three fellows break the window with a rock, grab the coin 
and skip out. They were never captured. Some people 
suspected the insurance company stole the monev. 

FINIS. 

Just now, as the book is full, under the contract limit 
with the greatest catalogue and general job printing 
house in this country, a numl)er of good items come to 
mind which I would like to record, but they'll have to 
wait until I write my next book. Here is my old key 
with which I registered my visits in the tinxe clock at the 
Chapman store every thirty minutes during every night 
for thirteen years, until it was so worn it would no longer 
turn the register. I'll turn it here just* one more last 
time. 



(PMr'07 



? 'b^i, ^uxve^. 



I. 
I 

A 408 BROADWAY 
«♦ __ 



Fifst-ciass <;ampif room 

CHAS. R. KRAUS, Prop. 

MILWAUKEE. 



tldndnDeNuth Shoe (o., 

Tine TootwearjiiiLiiiMsi— 

111 WISCONSIN ST., 



A. B. CASPAR!. MILWAUKEE. 

MANAGER. 



HERMAN VOSS, 

^Qmu\ BooKbinaer and Bl^^nK BooK IDaker, 

Also Manufacturer of ADVERTISING NOVELTIES. 
372-376 MILWAUKEE ST.. T MILWAUKEE, WIS. 



fl. K. CAMP CO., 

fine 'jewelry of an m«ds . 

Cor. Broadway and Mason Sts., 
-MILWAUKEE. 



C. A. HIGGINS, 

OYSTERS AND flSH 

138 MASON ST., 
MILWAUKEE. 



J. LUICK'S 



433 Milwaukee St., MII.WAUKBB. 



Floral Decorations, 

Landscape Architecture, 
Flower Seeds. 

(^I HITNALL FLORA UO., 

438 Milwaukee St., Milwaukee. 



LOUIS AUER & SON, 

"^eiaV ^s\a\e, '^^xAvw^ 
a^^ S.oaTvs, 

2d Ward Bank BIdg., MILWAUKEE. 



SAivi F=?- iviii_i_e:f=^ oo., 

134 Wisconsin Street, 

13^ Grand A.ventie,.<fC^ 

Wines, Liquors and CicfiRS 

DON'T FORGET THE NUIVIBERS. 



f dmpbell & Pdrtridi^e SHoe (o. 

Cadies* and Gents* Tine Shoes. 

106 WISCONSIN ST., 
Milwaukee, "Wis. *< 

i 

JONAH WILLIAMS, Wall Paper and Painting, 436 Milwaukee St., MILWAUEEE 



BRENK BROS., 

136 Wisconsin Street, 
.-*— MILWAUKEE. 



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